«5i 



G I 



m 



IlLBRARY OF CONGRESS, j 



f UNITED STATES OF AMER!CA.| 



/ 



The History of this little Volume (if it could be given) 
"would be almost as peculiar as that of its author. It has been 
read with interest in the palace, the lodging-house, the pul- 
pit, and by the homeless wanderer, on the ledge of the barn- 
door. The title of the book, to many, is forbidding, and it is 
almost amusing to witness their refusal to open its pages. 
Yet it travels silently on, gaining now and then a friendly 
reader, whose active effort to promote its circulation compen- 
sates for any indifference on the part of others. Twice, with- 
in a few months, the " Life of a Vagrant" has been out of 
print. The fact, in itself, is an honor to the practical philan- 
thropy of the age. 

Southwark, Nov, Wthy 1850. 



I consider the work called the " Life of a Vagrant ^^^ b^^ o- 
siAH Bassett, as very remarkable. I have seen the man, and 
exammed the manuscript, and could say much about both. 
The whole thing strikes me with wonder. That a human 
being beginning life in such unfavorable circumstances, and 
with such little apparent personal capacity, and after passing 
through a course so brutish and degrading as was Bas- 
sett's, should, through the awakening of the religious life, 
rise into a thinking man and an intelligent Christian, and 
write such a book as his, and in such a style, is a phenomenon, 
I humbly think, worthy of the attention of statesmen, educa- 
tor, philosopher, philanthropist, and, above all, of Christian 
ministers and- Christian Churches. 

T. BINNEY. 

Walworth, Nov. llth, 1850. 



THE 



LIFE OF A VAGBAIT, 



OR THE 



TESTIMONY OF AN OUTCAST 



VALUE AND TRUTH OF THE GOSPEL. 



" The moral history of a beggar, which faithfully revealed the interior 
movements of his mind^ and laid open the secret causes which contrib- 
uted to form and determine his character, might enlarge and enlighten 
the A-iews of a philosopher."— -Robert Hall. 



\ 



NEW YORK: 
ROBERT CARTER & BROTHERS, 
No. 285 BROADWA Y. 




1852. 






R. CRAllillEAH, raiXTuR AM) STEREOTYPES, 
I 12 Fl'LTON HTliELT, 



The following note will sufficiently explain 
to tlie reader the motives of the writer in pre- 
paring this simple narrative, and his reasons 
for giving it publicity : — 

^^ Saint Margaret's Courts June 29tkf 1848. 
"Dear Pastor, 

" I send you by bearer the coutinuation of my 
narrative unto the present time, to which are added some 
meditations on various subjects. I was first induced to write 
this narrative at the suggestion of an intimate Christian friend 
with whom I was wont to take sweet counsel. He told me 
much of God's dealings with him, and I unfolded something of 
what God had done for me. He requested that I would write 
it down for him, that he might read it at home to his pious 
partner in life. I went home, bought a sheet of paper, and 
began to write ; but when I had filled the sheet of paper, I 
found I had as much more to write ; so I bought another, 
and still, as I kept writing, the recollection of the past was 
brought vividly before my mind. Nothing was further from 
my thoughts than writing a book ; but when I read over what 
I had wrote to various friends, they wished to have a copy 
of it ; but writing many copies would be to me a most gigan- 
tic task, and several friends advised me to write a full account 
and have it printed, and I thought if it was good for a few, 
it might benefit many. Although it unfolds many things 
1* 



VI PREFACE. 

whicli are calculated to abase me, yet as my design is not to 
exalt myself, but that great Redeemer who called me out of 
darkness into his marvellous light, I send them forth to the 
public hoping that they may be the means of leading some 
poor sinners to Christ, and of encouraging the people of God, 
and of bringing some glory to God. 

" Dear Pastor, I feel much encouraged by the kind conde- 
scension and kind regard you have at all times shown me, in 
putting these writings into your hands. Hoping, praying, 
and believing that God may honor your ministry at Union 
Street, with His rich and effectual blessing, 
" I remain, dear Sir, 

'* Yours in Christ Jesus, 

"JOSIAH BASSET. 

" To the Rev. John Waudington." 

It will be seen from the date of this letter 
that ample time has been allowed for the due 
consideration of the prudential difl&culties con- 
nected with a publication of this nature. They 
have been carefully weighed and entirely obvi- 
ated. My humble friend has been a consistent 
and devoted member of the church for nine 
years. Truthful, industrious, frugal, kind, and 
devout, he merits every encouragement. I can 
vouch for the correctness and fidelity of his 
narration. It is thoroughly genuine. By the 
unexpected liberality of his friends, he is ena- 
bled to bring out the work without anxiety or 



PREFACE. YU 

risk, and on terms which secure to him the un- 
divided profits. Two gentlemen have kindly 
consented to act as Trustees on his behalf, and 
my hope is, that from the sale of the book, a 
fund will be raised of sufficient amount to al- 
low him to devote his time to the work of a 
Scripture Eeader. May I bespeak for him the 
benevolent attention of Christian publishers 
and critics. It is rarely that an author presents 
himself in a garb so mean, and withal under 
circumstances of such deep moral and relig- 
ious interest. I met him on returning from 
the printers with his friend, after having made 
the final arrangement for publishing, on Lon- 
don Bridge, carrying a board on his shoulders. 
As we stood together in the rain, I accepted 
the gratuitous commission to edit the little 
work. "We had met before to unite in prayer 
that God would give His direction and bless- 
ing, and now it is sent out in the hope that by 
the " sons of want'^ in particular, it will be read 
with profit. To others, in the degree of their 
intelligence, true refinement, and philanthropic 
spirit, it will be eminently suggestive. The 



Vlll PREFACE. 

fall of an apple to tlie mind of Newton, an- 
nounced tlie law of gravitation. A piece of 
drifted vegetation was the sign to Columbus of 
a new continent. A slight disturbance in the 
heavens led to the discovery of another planet. 
What ^^ views" may be presented to the mind 
of the Christian statesman, or to the practical 
philanthropist from the close and careful study 
of the ^^ moral history of a beggar ?" 

9, SuREEY Square, May 1, 1850. 



%ih nf a f agratit 



^ ' ♦ * ^ 



PAET I. 

Dear Feiend and Brother ijst Christ, 

It having pleased God in his providence to 
bring us upon terms of mutual friendship, it 
may be profitable to you, though humbling to 
myself, to give you an account of my life. 
May God assist me to keep in remembrance 
my own acts of rebellion against Him and his 
long-suffering and saving mercy. Knowing 
the shortness and uncertainty of human life, I 
Vvrish to give a testimony to the value and truth 
of the gospel, which may remain, when I am 
no more on earth, to silence the infidel, and to 
encourage the poor and the destitute to put 
their trust in the Lord. I come not from the 
seats of learning, neither can I boast of my an- 
cestry — nor yet have I to record heroic deeds 



10 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

as a memorial of my own fame, — but from the 
outcasts of society, I come forth to raise a hum- 
ble monument to my Saviour ^s praise. 

I was born near the Old Kent-road, South- 
wark, April 25, 1812. My parents were pious, 
and had been in comfortable circumstances, 
but, soon after my birth were reduced to ab- 
ject poverty. My mother, as soon as I could 
speak, taught me a form of prayer and several 
of Dr. Watts' Hymns for children. I had two 
brothers and one sister. We soon began to 
manifest the depravity of our corrupt hearts in 
acts of mischief and of disobedience to our pa- 
rents, often causing them the keenest sorrow. 
My father endeavored to give us education, 
and sent us to school, but we frequently played 
the truant, and were several times expelled by 
the master. One day, I and my two brothers 
went gathering cherry-stones. We wandered 
over London Bridge. In going, we lost our 
youngest brother. We went as far as Shore- 
ditch in search of him, but not finding him, we 
turned back toward home— one taking one side 
of the street, and the other, the other side. In 
going home, I lost my way, and wandered 
about till midnight. Not being able to find 
my way to my father's house, I began to cry. 
A woman that sold fruit in the street gave me 



LOST liSr THE STREETS. 11 

Bome apples, and kept me till the watchman 
came round. Having told him that I had lost 
myself, he took me first to the watch-house, 
and from thence to Saint Giles's workhouse. 
When the porter opened the door, he said : **I 
have brought you another young one.^' After 
giving me some food, they put me to bed. In 
the bed lay a little child fast asleep — it was my 
lost brother ! He awoke : we embraced each 
other. The next day we were sent home, to 
the great joy of our disconsolate parents. My 
father was very much afflicted, and subject to 
fits. For a long time he obtained a scanty 
subsistence for himself and family, by selling 
things. Eeligion at this time, at home, was at 
a low ebb. There was no family altar. My 
father being often unable to pay his rent, was 
constantly changing the place of his abode. 
He was anxious, nevertheless, wherever he 
went, to place us under the care of religious 
teachers. Thus, in a short time, I was removed 
from Kent-street to Mint-street, Flint-street, 
York-street, and Lion-street schools. 

When a boy, I stammered very much ; and 
having all the appearance of an idiot, I was 
looked upon as such, both by my own father, 
and by strangers. When at Flint-street school, 
however, I was kindly noticed by the teachers 



12 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

for the readiness with wbich I committed to 
memory the portions of the Scripture and the 
catechisms. I was fond of reading, and read 
with eagerness the historical parts of the Bible ; 
and I have reason to bless God that here the 
good seed of the gospel was sown in my heart; 
and though when I grew older, these things 
were smothered, yet they were never entirely 
obliterated from my mind. 

A short time after this, I went to work in a 
rope-walk, to turn a spinner's wheel. There I 
got acquainted with some extremely wicked 
boys, with whom I joined in every act of mis- 
chief. I soon grew fond of going to fairs, races, 
plays, and other places of amusement. I often 
quarrelled with my brothers, and we were often 
fighting. This grieved my poor mother's heart 
much — for, as she had been seized with a par- 
alytic stroke, she was unable to prevent it. One 
day mj brother threw the hearth broom at me, 
it hit me on the forehead, the blood flowed from 
my face, the neighbors came running in and 
bound up my temples — I bore the scar for 
many a long year. 

My father determined to send my elder broth- 
er to sea ; he took him to the mariner's society, 
and after severa applications, was taken into 
the school-ship at Deptford. 



BROTHER DROWNED. 13 

Our family was now obliged to go into Saint 
George's workhouse, where I continued five 
years. There were about sixty of us in the 
boys' ward, in the charge of a schoolmaster and 
a nurse ; some spun worsted, and others picked 
oakum. A system of bartering was carried on 
amongst the boys. If one boy saw another 
with something nice, he would offer his next 
dinner or supper, for a piece of it. The school 
in this way was divided into classes — debtors 
and creditors. I soon became a creditor, and 
had four or five allowances at once. Those 
who owed their victuals, would go round the 
table begging small pieces of bread. 

My brother, who had been drafted on board 
a man-of-war, ran away, and coming up to Lon- 
don, was afterwards bound apprentice to the 
captain of a West Indian trader. We heard 
nothing of him for some time, — my father, after 
suffering much suspense, made application to 
the owner, and was informed that his son was 
drowned. The ship had been to the West In- 
dies, and was returning to England, heavy la- 
den, when, eight miles from a foreign port, the 
waves broke over her, and washed away the 
caboose, in which my brother was assisting the 
cook, from its fastenings, and plunged it into 
the sea ; poor Henry was seen hanging to it 



14 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

with his hands, but the ship was going so fast 
before the wind, that no help could be given to 
him — he sank to rise no more ! This was a 
sad stroke to my parents — the feelings of my 
father were like those of David, when he said, 
'* O my son Absalom — my son, my son Ab- 
salom ! would Grod I had died for thee, Ab- 
salom, my son, my son !" 

My mother soon after took ill and died. I 
remained in the workhouse five years, during 
which time many boys were sent out appren- 
tices to various trades, but no one would take 
me as an apprentice, on account of my simple 
appearance. I grew weary of staying in the 
house, and determined with my youngest broth- 
er to run away. We did so, and walked down 
to Croydon fair. After sauntering about the 
fair with nothing to eat, for some time, we re- 
turned to London. For a few days we gather- 
ed bones about the streets and sold them, earn- 
ing in this manner about three pence per day. 
This sum supplied us with bread, and at night 
we lay down between some logs of timber in 
the York-road. The nights were cold and 
frosty, and sometimes our clothes stuck to the 
ground : not liking our quarters, we came to 
the resolution of walking the streets, hoping 
the night constable AYOuld take us up, and that 



WATCH-HOUSE. 15 

we should be sent to the poor-house again. 
We wandered backward and forward some 
time ; on passing the end of Union-street, we 
were stopped by two night constables, who 
questioned us ; not being able to give a good 
account of ourselves, and having two case- 
knives about us, we were taken to the watch- 
house, on suspicion of being concerned in a 
robbery, as we learned afterward, attempted by 
a lad whom we found in custody. A drunken 
man was also locked up with us. In the morn- 
ing, the mother and sister of the boy came to 
him, and brought with them some breakfast, a 
piece of tobacco, and a little gin, which he 
drunk out of a tea-pot. We were all taken to 
the Union Hall, (now Pickford's warehouse,) 
the lad was committed for three months ; we 
were liberated, and the next night we returned 
to the poor-house. I ran away several times, 
but after enduring a few hardships, made my 
way back again. On Sunday, being let out to 
go to church, and having threepence halfpenny 
and some bread in my pocket, I left London 
and travelled that day as far as Brentwood, in 
Essex. At night I lay down in a shed, a man 
came soon after with some calves, and taking 
no notice of me, fastened the doors and went 
away; — the calves crouched down quietly 



16 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

alongside me, and helped to keep me warm. 
In the morning I was off early. The next day 
I walked to Maldon, and there spent my last 
penny. A little beyond the town, I found a 
shed which I entered, intending to make it my 
lodging, but hearing the farmer's servants about 
the yard, I was afraid to remain. I got out 
and travelled some miles further, until I saw 
some pigsties in the front of a few cottages, and 
observing one without an occupant, and plenty 
of clean straw in it, I determined to rest there 
for the night, and slept very soundly. I con- 
tinued my wanderings next day without food 
or money ; being faint, I asked a publican that 
stood at his door, for a drink of water; point- 
ing to a river, he said, ^' There's plenty of water 
there," and threatened to have me taken up if 
I was not soon out of the village. Disconcert- 
ed by this rebuff, I could not muster resolu- 
tion enough to ask any other person, but went 
on, tired and hungry, to Ipswich ; having fasted 
so long, I could get no further. A young lad 
seeing me a stranger in the town, asked me 
where I came from ; upon my telling him I came 
from London, he gave me a penny, and point- 
ing to a shop, said, if I would go in there and 
ask for a ticket, they would give one for a sup- 
per and lodging. I went there, and after ask- 



PUBLIC-HOUSE. 17 

ing me various questions, they gave me a ticket, 
which procured me threepence worth of bread 
and cheese. I tasted some, but my stomach 
was gone — I could not eat. I went back to the 
shopkeeper to ask for a ticket for a night's 
lodging. He told me they had left off giving 
lodgings. I wandered up and down ; the chil- 
dren seeing me a stranger, followed me. Two 
constables asked me why I did not go to my 
lodgings. I told them that I had no money to 
procure any. They passed by, but after a 
while, they took me into a shop, and after con- 
versing with the shopkeeper on the subject, 
took me to a public-house ; after asking the 
landlord if he could let me have a bed, I was 
told to sit down in the tap-room by the fire. 
The constable after settling with the landlord, 
left. Some bread and cheese and a pint of ale 
was brought for me ; after warming the ale and 
drinking a little, my appetite came too; I eat 
the bread and cheese also which I had in my 
pocket — after drinking two pints of ale ! Be- 
fore he left, the constable gave me sixpence. I 
was shown to a good bed. On getting up in 
the morning, the servant brought me a pint of 
ale, and some cheese, with a penny to buy some 
bread. I now proceeded through Woodbridge 
to Saxmundham, and from there to Work- 
2# 



18 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

worth. Having only tlireepence in my pocket, 
I bought half a pint of ale and then sought 
shelter in a farm-yard. I got into a shed and 
lay down among some wood to sleep. I had 
not been long there before I could hear a num- 
ber of people coming toward the place where I 
lay. They soon entered, some carrying lan- 
terns, others armed with pitchforks and sticks : 
they rushed upon me. I cried out for mercy. 
After they were in some measure appeased, 
they asked me why I came there. I told them, 
having no money to pay for my lodging, I had 
lain down for shelter. They told me to go to 
the overseer. I returned to Workworth to the 
overseer. He refused to relieve me at first, 
threatening to send me to Bridewell ; but, upon 
my importunity, he gave me sixpence, with 
which I went to a public-house and had supper 
and a good bed. 

On the day following there was a heavy 
snow. I asked a publican that stood at his 
door to help me. He told me to shake the 
snow off and come in by the fire, sit down and 
warm myself. He brought me half a pint of 
ale, warmed it, and gave me some bread and 
cheese. A person drinking mulled wine came 
behind me, and, pulling my head back, poured 
the wine down my throat. In the afternoon I 



BRIDEWELL. 19 

came to Lowestoft. I bought a pennyworth 
of bread and went into a pubhc-house, and 
called for half a pint of ale. There was a num- 
ber of fishermen in the house. They kindly 
seated me by the fireside. The landlord asked 
me if I could eat some pork with my bread ? 
I said '^ yes." He brought me a good piece of 
pork, and gave me another half-pint of ale. A 
person in the room put a shilling in my hand ; 
and when I left they all came with me through 
the town to prevent the boys throwing snow- 
balls at me. I went that night to Yarmouth, 
where I lodged. The following morning I took 
a walk, and looked at Nelson's monument — a 
stone column, with a statue at top. A sailor 
gave me sixpence. I tarried next night at a 
country village, between Yarmouth and North 
Walsham. On Sunday, the day after, it rained 
very fast, I came to Norwich, and asked at sev- 
eral houses for relief. I was told to go to the 
constable's. I did so. He told me he did not 
know what to do with me, but took me to the 
town bridewell. They put me in a room with 
a fire in, and then brought me a loaf of bread. 
I sat and dried my clothes, and at night they 
showed me to bed. The next morning they 
took me before the mayor. The constable ad- 
vised me to ask for a pass to London. I did 



20 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

SO. The mayor asked me what brought me 
there. I told him that I came from London — 
that I was living in St. George ^s workhouse — 
and that the parish officers gave me five shil- 
lings to go to an uncle at North Walsham, but 
when I arrived there, my uncle was gone, no- 
body knew where. The mayor said, '^ It was 
not very likely that the parish officers would 
give me only five shillings to carry me to North 
Walsham to a relative, when I did not know 
whether he was living or dead.'^ He asked me 
what I wanted. I told him I wanted a '^ pass to 
London." He said, ^^I could not have any," 
offering me some bread and cheese. I told 
them ^^ I could not go without a pass." He 
said, ^^ Commit him for a month to the town 
bridewell." The commitment was drawn up, 
and I was taken to bridewell, there locked up 
in a solitary cell, and kept on a pound and a 
half of bread, and cold water per day. I had 
nothing to do ; the time seemed very long. I 
used to amuse myself sitting on my bed, and 
counting the minutes with my fingers, counting 
sixty times a minute. I was let down into the 
yard in the morning a few minutes, — then lock- 
ed up for the rest of the day. There was preach- 
ing in the prison on Sunday afternoons, after 
which, the prisoners were allowed to be to- 



PRISON EXAMINATIOlsr. 21 

gether in a room with a fire in it, and tlie priv- 
ilege of warming water, and salt to it. After 
I had been there a fortnight, I asked the turn- 
key if he ^^conld lend me a book." He lent 
me an old Bible, which I began to read at Gen- 
esis, and intended reading it through. It was 
not that I loved the word of God, or sought to 
know my Maker's will; but merely to pass 
away the time : — still it laid a foundation for 
that knowledge of God's holy word, which is 
able to make wise unto salvation. While I 
was there, the mayor and aldermen visited the 
prison, and the prisoners were brought before 
them, one by one: — after asking me, in my 
turn, a number of questions, one said, *'It was 
a pity flogging was ever done away with ; it 
was highly beneficial." After I had been con- 
fined nearly four weeks, I was set at liberty ; 
having received half-a-crown from the gov- 
ernor. 

I left Norwich the same day, and journeyed 
to the next town on the London road. I ap- 
plied to the overseer for relief, telling him I 
had been laid up six weeks in Norwich with a 
fever. He gave me some food. I lodged in 
the town that night, and the next morning, 
travelled on the road. — It was Sunday. — I 
thouoht not of making; it a dav of rest, or of 



22 LIFE or A VAGRANT. 

going to a place of worship to hear God's holy 
word, or join in solemn prayer and praise. To 
excite pity, I frequently had recourse to lying. 
Yet God watched over me, provided for my 
wants, bore with my sins, and did not cut me 
down as a cumberer of the ground. 

The snow lay thick upon the road. My shoes 
were very bad. I pulled them off and carried 
them in my hand. A gentleman on horseback 
passing by, said : ^^ You seem to be in distress," 
and threw a sixpence to me. I called at a 
farm-house and asked for something to eat. 
The farmer gave me a note to the schoolmaster 
at Scole, who, when he had read it, sent a boy 
to the baker's for a penny loaf for me. While 
I stood eating the loaf, a lad gave me a penny 
to buy another. I did so, and asked the baker 
to let me sit down and eat it. The baker's 
wife gave me something warm (broth or tea) to 
drink, and a handkerchief to put on my neck. 
1 arrived at Bury St. Edmunds the same night. I 
applied for relief, and was provided with supper 
and bed. From Bury I travelled through Sud- 
bury, Halstead, Chelmsford, to Brentwood. I 
took lodgings at a small public-house. Some 
hawkers kindly gave me a part of their supper. 
The next day I proceeded to Eomford. I was 
very footsore. The publican overtook me going 



TURNS FORMALIST. 23 

to Eomford market, and paid for a pint of ale and 
bread and clieese for me. I lodged at Ilford 
that nio'ht, and the next dav arrived in Lon- 
don, after being away six Vv^eeks. I was taken 
into the workhouse again. I told the people 
that I had been to Yarmouth, and got employ- 
ment at cutting firewood, and came back be- 
cause the man had no more work for me to do."^ 
Some time after this I became a religious 
formalist, — went regularly every Sunday to 
church, — read the Bible night and morniug, — 
kneeled down to say my prayers, and thought 
myself in the right way to heaven. I was a 
stony-ground hearer. I received the word with 
joy, but it had no root in my heart. How 
could it, unless it had been broken in contri- 
tion? My impressions were *'like the early 
dew or morning cloud, which soon passeth 
away." I had not wholly given myself to God, 
neither was I willing to part with all my sins. 

* What a contemptible thing deceit is ! "We know it is sin- 
ful, and that for liars of every kind a fearful doom is wait- 
ino^ ; for those who do a lie as well as those who say one. 
But apart from its sinfulness in the sight of God, how despi- 
cable it is in the eyes of men ! Worldly men who commit all 
sorts of sins, and are not ashamed of them, will not confess 
it if they are liars. Men dare not laugh at lying, because it 
is such a dangerous and contemptible vice ; few, even those 
as bad as themselves, would dare to excuse them for it. Ly- 
mg gains notliing. If sinners despise those who commit this sin, 
what must a just and holy God do ! — SaMath School Teacher. 



24 LIFE OF A VAGRNAT. 

After a wliile, I was tempted to vices of a 
grosser kind, and sunk into deep moral pollu- 
tion. My conscience would often smite me, 
and many a time I resolved to give up my sins, 
but my good resolutions were like a bundle of 
straw against the force of a mill-stream. I was 
a poor slave — my passions were my lords. My 
sins brought witli them their own punishment; 
my body wasted by disease, and my mind stung 
with guilt, I had left off to pray, read the 
Bible, and go to church, for I knew that I was 
living contrary to the word of God, and did 
not like to come to the light, lest my deeds 
should be reproved. Many forsake the house 
of God for no other reason. 

I was now seventeen years of age, and being 
wearied of staying in the workhouse, and de- 
sirous of seeing strange places, I ran away, and 
went that day as far as Hatfield. The next 
night I reached Bedford, and from there I went 
to Alkenbury, where I applied to the constable 
for relief. He asked me what trade I was. I 
told him a shoemaker. He said he was a shoe- 
maker himself, and asked me if I had got a kit. 
I told him that I had been obliged to pawn it. 
He gave a penny and directed me to the over- 
seers, who gave me money sufficient to pay for 
my lodging. The day after I went through 



COAT stole:^^. 25 

Kilton to Stamford ; I applied to the overseer 
for relief, but could get none. The constable ^s 
wife told me to beg at the shops. I^did so, 
but no one gave me anything. I went back, 
and she let me lay down in the cage. Before 
I lay down, she l^rought me some coffee and 
bread and butter. In the middle of the ni2:ht, 
I was disturbed by a drunken man, who was 
shut up with me. In the morning I was let 
out, and travelled through Grantham to Long 
Weston, where I obtained comfortable lodg- 
ings. All the next month I proceeded through 
a most beautiful country, to Newark-upon- 
Trent, and from thence to Tuxford. On my 
way, I met with a traveller, who persuaded me 
to join him. We went to two or three cot- 
tages : I stood by the door while he begged. 
He told the people we were two poor spindle- 
makers from Norwich. We got supplied with 
food and money, and passed on through Eet- 
ford and Bawtry, to Doncaster. We applied 
to the mayor, and received tickets of admission 
into the vagrant-of&ce, where we had a good 
fire to sit by and a supper of warm milk and 
bread. The next morning we were told to quit 
the town, but instead of leaving, we took lodg- 
ings. My companion said, ^^If I would lend 
him my coat and waistco^t^^ he would go to 
3 



n 



26 LIFK OF A VAGRANT. 

church, and beg of the people as they came 
out." I agreed, and sat in-doors waiting, until 
he should oome back. I stayed till three 
o'clock,* but he did not return, so I perceived 
he had purposely gone off with my clothes. 
Having no money to buy food, or pay my lodg- 
ings, I left Doncaster and travelled fourteen 
miles to Ferry Bridge. When I arrived there, 
it was late. I called at the overseer's, but he 
was not at home. I walked up and down for 
an hour in the cold. A person opened a door 
and asked the reason, I told them I had no 
money to pay for lodging, but was waiting for 
the overseer. They invited me into their 
house, and told me to sit by the fire, and warm- 
ed me some broth, and sent several times to 
see if the overseer had come home. Finding 
that he did not come, and being afraid that I 
should perish in the cold, they provided a bed 
for me in the loft : — thus did God put it into 
the hearts of people to whom I was a complete 
stranger, to have pity upon me, and use me 
with all the kindness of a friend. In the morn- 
ing, having thanked them for their hospitality, 
I went on to York, having been liberally sup- 
plied with food at a gentleman's hall. After 
staying a night in York, as it was wet, I went 
to the cathedral, whose lofty towers, noble 



KITCHEI^ ENTERTAINMENT. 27 

arched windows, and splendid gothic architec- 
ture make it the admiration of strangers, and 
the boast of the citizens. From York, I trav- 
elled through Easingwold, Thirsk, Northaller- 
ton, Darlington, to Durham. On my way, I 
went to a gentleman's house ; as I was going, 
the butler came out from the front door, and 
moving his hand with an authoritative air, 
said, *^ be off! be off ! !" I turned round to go 
away, when he called me back, and gave me 
two-pence. Seeing my shoes were very bad, 
he brought me a pair of shoes and stockings, 
took me into the kitchen, and told me to put 
them on by the fire. He then warmed some 
ale for me, and gave me some meat and bread, 
and tied some more in a handkerchief for me 
to take away, after I had warmed myself He 
asked me where I came from. I told him from 
London. He inquired if I was from Kent- 
street, remarking to the servant-maid that it 
was a dreadful place. When I came away, I 
thanked him, and he gave m% two-pence more, 
telling me not to send any other people. From 
Durham I proceeded to Sunderland. This 
country abounds in coal-pits, some of which 
are two thousand feet deep. The colliers are 
exposed to great danger from the explosion of 
foul air, and falling of the loose coal. At the 



28 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

bottom there is a railroad to convey the coal 
from the end of the pit. The men often have 
to lay on their sides while breaking out the 
coal. Sometimes by horses, and sometimes by 
men, the coal is drawn to the bottom of the 
shaft and then raised to the top by means of a 
powerful steam-engine,^ and then conveyed 
along a railroad, from twenty to thirty loaded 
trams or wagons together, to the sea-side. 
The coal trains are brought on a high platform 
— the bottoms are made to draw out, when the 
coal slides down a conductor into the ship. O 

* George Stephenson, the first Civil Engineer in the world, 
once worked in one of these pits. In a speech he made on 
the opening of the Newcastle and Darlington railway, on 
Tuesday, June 18th, 1844, — after travelling 300 miles that 
day from London, he says: — " Mr. Liddell has truly told you 
that, in my early days, I worked at an engine in a coal- 
pit. I had then to work early and late, often rising to my 
labor at one and two o'clock in the morning. Time rolled on, 
and I had the happiness to make some improvements in en- 
gine work. The first locomotive that I made was at Killing- 
worth Colliery, and with Lord Ravensworth's money. Yes ! 
Lord Ravensworth & Co. were the first parties that would 
entrust me with money to make a locomotive engine. That 
engine was made thirty-two years ago. I said to my friends 
that there was no limit to the speed of such an engine, pro- 
vided the works could be made to stand. In this respect 
great perfection has been reached, and, in consequence, a very 
high velocity has been attained. In what has been done un- 
der my management, the merit is only in part my own. I 
have been most ably assisted and seconded by my son. In 
the earlier period of my career, and when he was a little boy, 
I saw how deficient I was in education, and made up my 
mind that he should not labor under the same defect, but that 
I should put him to a good school, and give him a liberal 



BKIDGE ACROSS THE WEAR. 29 

the amazing store of wealth that is here em- 
bedded in the bowels of the earth. O Lord, 
the earth is fall of thy riches. How bounti- 
fully hast thou provided for the wants of thy 
creature, man ! At Sunderland I was accom- 
modated for a night at the poor-house. In the 
morning, I passed over the celebrated bridge 
across the river Wear. It is built of wrought 
iron, and suspended from two rocks. It is but 
one arch, and is so high that the coal ships sail 
under it with their masts standing. Leaving 
Sunderland, I went through Shields and Mor- 
peth, to Alnwick — where is the seat of the 
Duke of Northumberland. Over the archway 
are numerous figures, representing persons in 
every attitude of war, after the manner of old- 
training. I was, however, a poor man ; and how do you think 
I managed ? I betook myself to mending my neighbors' 
clocks and watches at night after my daily labor was done ; 
and thus I procured the means of educating my son. He 
became my assistant and my companion. He got an appoint- 
ment as under reviewer, and at nights we worked together 
at engineering. I got leave to go to Killing worth, to lay 
down a railway at Hetton, and next to Darlington ; and af- 
ter that went to Liverpool, to plan a line to Manchester. I 
there pledged myself to attain a speed of ten miles an hour. 
I said, * I had no doubt the locomotive might be made to go 
much faster, but we had better be moderate at the begin- 
ning.' Assistance gradually increased — improve- 
ments were made every day — and to-day a train, which 
started from London in the morning, has brought me in the 
afternoon to my native soil, and enabled me to take my place 
in this room, and see around me many faces which I have 
great pleasure in looking upon." 

3* 



30 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

en time. I now went on to Belford and Ber- 
wick-upon-Tweed. Berwick is a walled town, 
having gates. It divides the two kingdoms. 
Entering Scotland, I walked through Ayton, 
Dunse, Greenlaw, Lauder, Falla, to Hadding- 
ton, from thence to Tranent, where I stayed a 
week. This part of Scotland is very fruitfuj, 
and abounds in gentlemen's seats and large 
farms. I was soon broke into the Scotch way 
of living — porridge, milk, kail, and oatcake. 
From Tranent I went through Musselburgh to 
Edinburgh. The houses in Edinburgh are 
very lofty — many of them seven stories high. 
The streets in the old town are very irregularly 
built. The chief object of attraction is the cas- 
tle, which is built on the top of a lofty hill 
which overlooks the town, from whence there 
is a most delightful view of the country for 
many miles round. The New Town of Edin- 
burgh is built of free-stone. The streets and 
squares are regularly built, and present a grand 
appearance. I stayed a few days in this city. 
While in St. Andrew's-square, I was taken up 
for begging, and sent to the police-office until 
next morning, and then set at liberty. I left 
Edinburgh, intending to return to London; 
but when I arrived at Dalkeith I changed my 
purpose, and went further into Scotland. At 



STIRLING CASTLE. 31 

Lanark, where there are some large cotton 
mills, I stayed a few days, and then went on 
to Linlithgow, where there are some curious 
wells, forming a conduit, surrounded with three 
rows of lions' heads continually spouting out 
water. The next place I visited was Falkirk, 
near which are iron works where they cast 
cannon. From this town I went to Bannock- 
burn, famous in Scottish history as the place 
where Eobert Bruce defeated Edward and lib- 
erated Scotland. I passed on to Stirling. The 
town is built on a hill. At the top is a strong 
fortified castle, near the river Forth. I lodged 
on the castle-hill, whence there was a beautiful 
prospect of the surrounding country ; on one 
side the river Forth with all its serpentine 
windings ; on the other side might be seen, at 
a distance, the high mountains of Perthshire, 
with their deep glens, and the glistening water- 
falls rolling down their sides. 

Beyond them, the German Ocean. O how 
beautiful are the works of God in every land ! 
From Stirling I proceeded to Auchterarder. 
My shoes were now worn off my feet with con- 
tinual travelling, and I was obliged to walk 
barefoot, oftentimes along green lanes, where 
the hedges had been lately cut, and the prickly 
thorns lay scattered over the path. Every step 



32 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

I trod my feet were pierced witli sharp thorns, 
and the blood flowed from the wounds. It 
was like a number of needles piercing my flesh. 
Yet these things only troubled me for the time 
I was passing through them. When I got a 
smooth road under my feet, I was as light- 
hearted and as free as anybody could be. Perth 
was the next place I came to. It is a pretty 
town on the banks of the beautiful river Tay. 
The streets are neatly built. I proceeded 
through Cupar, Angus, Forfar, Brechin, and 
Montrose, to Aberdeen. I was now five hund- 
red miles from London, and had given up the 
idea of ever returning. I was completely bro- 
ken in to a wandering life, and to gain a sub- 
sistence, begged from door to door. I invent- 
ed the most shameful falsehoods to excite pity. 
Secret prayer, the reading of the Scriptures, 
and public worship, were wholly neglected, 
though I felt often the checks of conscience, 
and could not give myself wholly to the scenes 
of depravity which were continually before my 
eyes. Here I would digress, to offer a plea for 
the children of poor travellers. How greatly 
are their children to be pitied. It is to be re- 
gretted, that, amongst all the charitable insti- 
tutions, which are the glory of my native land, 
there does not exist a school and an asylum 



KEGLECTED CHILDREN. 83 

for the children of poor travellers, where they 
might receive education, be brought up in in- 
dustrious habits, and above all, through the 
divine blessing, be brought to be savingly ac- 
quainted with Christ Jesus. Some of these 
children are born travelling, others are brought 
to it from the faults, or misfortunes of their 
parents. Owing to the wandering nature of 
their parents' lives, continually moving from 
place to place, they neither receive daily nor 
Sabbath instruction. Brought up amidst scenes 
of wickedness, shut out from everything that 
is good, hearing and seeing nothing but spec- 
tacles of vice which are acted in lodging-houses; 
— is it to be wondered that these children grow 
up ignorant of all that would make them good 
and useful members of society, or prepare them 
for a future state ? In the very bosom of a 
Christian country, they grow up to be a plague 
to society, and as ignorant of the way of salva- 
tion as the Hottentot or the Indian. O pity 
these poor children. Each of them has an im- 
mortal soul of more value than this material 
world ! He that converteth a sinner from the 
error of his wa}^ shall save a soul from death, 
and hide a multitude of sins. 

The town of Aberdeen is the largest in the 
north of Scotlandj situated near the sea, betwixt 



34 LIFE OF A YAGRA^iTT. 

two rivers, the Dee and the Don. Trade is 
carried on to a considerable extent. It is also 
a port for shipping, and has three large mar- 
kets. The principal street, called Union-street, 
is the finest I ever saw. The fronts of the 
houses are all of free-stone, and free from smoke. 
It is carried across a deep valley, at an im- 
mense height. It is quite level, and the houses 
uniform and beautiful. There is a college and 
several schools. The town is well supplied 
with butcher's meat, fish, eggs, milk, poultry, 
and other things very cheap. The country 
about Aberdeen is most beautiful and healthy. 
I stayed a week in Aberdeen, and then went 
on through Perth, Peterhead, Banff*, CuUen, 
Fochabers, Elgin, Forres, Nairn, Fort George, 
to Inverness. I was now in the Highlands, 
where the Gaslic language is spoken. I stayed 
a few days at Inverness, and then proceeded to 
Cromarty and Tain. The county of Eoss is 
very mountainous, and presents a romantic ap- 
pearance. Gaelic is generally spoken. I had 
some difficulty in making myself understood in 
many places. From Tain I went through Dor- 
nock to Golspie, near which is Dunrobin Castle, 
the seat of the Duke of Sutherland, of which 
county he is the sole proprietor. The country 
near the sea-side is cultivated, but the most of 



LIFE IN THE HIGHLANDS. 35 

the interior is large barren mountains, with 
here and there a sheep farm. The inhabitants 
hve and die secluded among barren hills and 
rocks. If a stranger should make his appear- 
ance among them^ they treat him with the hos- 
pitalit}^ of an old friend. They are very strict 
in observing the Sabbath. Some of them go 
many miles to hear God's word, and family 
worship is maintained. Their dwellings are 
miserable hovels, made of clods of earth, fre- 
quently without a door— a piece of old cloth 
band put to keep the wind out. They have no 
chimneys to their houses. The fire is made on 
the ground, and the smoke finds its way 
through a hole in the roof. Everything inside 
looks smoke-dried. Many houses I called at I 
could hardly see in for smoke. They live ex- 
tremely hard, their food not only being coarse, 
but frequently scanty. Except here and there 
a patch of cultivated land, the whole interior 
of the country is extremely sterile. High bleak 
mountains and barren wastes, peak after peak 
here and there may be seen, numerous flocks 
of sheep grazing on them, miles distant from 
each other. Secluded among the hills dwell 
the shepherds, far remote from noise and bustle. 
Yet barren as these hills are, the Highlander 
values them, and often may be heard the song 



36 LIFE OF A VAGP.AKT. 

of praise to God. Passing through. Sutherland, 
I came to Caithness, the farthest county in 
Scotland, This country is more open and 
colder, and all along the sea-side are a great 
number of small farms. The only two towns 
of note are Wick and Thurso. When I came 
to Wick it was the herring season. The town pre- 
sented a scene of bustle quite unusual in these re- 
mote regions. Herring barrels, piled in great 
stacks — strangers coming from all parts — the 
ocean swarmed with fishing-boats — women em- 
ployed in salting the herrings — coopers in 
putting them in barrels. From Wick I went 
on to Friswick, within four miles of John 
O'Groats, the northernmost part of Scotland. 
Seeing a man stacking peats, I asked him to 
give me a job. He told me to help by throw- 
ing peats into the stack. I did so, and stayed 
with him until he had got in all. These peats 
are dug out of the moss in spring ; they are 
cut with a spade made for that purpose, and 
are in thickness like a brick, but rather larger. 
When dug they are quite soft and unfit for use. 
They are put three or four together to dry, left 
for two or three months, and then gathered to- 
gether and carried home in carts. They are 
then put in great stacks, so formed, that the 
rain cannot penetrate them, and serve for fuel 



JOHN O'GROATS. 87 

until next summer. My master kept a small 
farm. I was employed hoeing potatoes and 
turnips, and tending cattle. Our farm-house 
had two doors, the one for the family, and the 
other for the cows ; there was no partition be- 
tween the place where the cows lay and our 
own, but the stove or fire-place. My master 
sold whiskey, and sometimes the Preventive 
men called and wanted sometMng to eat and 
drink. After staying with them two months, 
I left, they having nothing for me to do. I 
proceeded to John O'Groats. There is nothing 
remarkable but an old storehouse for fish, and 
a distant view of the Orkney Islands. I was 
received with no small kindness by the inhab- 
itants of these parts, who invited me to sit down 
at table with them, some constraining me to 
abide all night, and others telling me not to go 
up among the mountains, but to tarry among 
them during the coming winter. I slept one 
night in a farm-house. The mistress asked me 
what trade I was. I told her a brushmaker. 
The next morning she said, there is a young 
man in the shop wants to speak to you before 
you go. I went to him. He said he wanted 
some brushes made, and showing me one, he 
said he wanted them made like that, and asked 
me if I could do it for him. I took the brush 
4 



38 LIFE OF A VAGBANT. 

in my hand, and turning it over, said, yes, 
sir, I can make them for you, but I must go to 
Thurso first, and borrow some tools. After I 
had breakfast, I left — taking care not to go 
back again to make the brushes. The next 
day I had great difficulty in procuring lodg- 
ings, for it was sacrament day. After I had 
tried in vain many farm-houses, I was received 
by a party of gypsies or tinkers who lay in a 
barn. They kindly divided their bed-clothing 
with me. The next day I passed through 
Thurso, and travelled over many miles of cul- 
tivated country, called the parish of Eeay, un- 
til I came to a deep and rapid river. Perceiv- 
ing that it was too deep to be crossed with 
safety, I turned up by its side, which led me 
into a glen between the mountains, forty miles, 
as I was told, in length. Here nothing could 
be seen for miles but lonely wastes and bar- 
ren rocks— no sound was heard but the gush- 
ing stream as it forced itself down the steep 
mountain side, the cawing of birds, and the 
distant bark of the shepherd's dog. Here, in 
these lonely wilds I wandered, not knowing 
where I was going. Sometimes I found my 
^vay to a shepherd's house, where I was treat- 
ed with great kindness — the best in the house 
set before me, and if it was near sunset, con- 



KIRK IIS" THE MOUNTAINS. 39 

strained to tarry all niglit, lest darkness should 
overtake me, and I lose my way before I 
reached the next shepherd's house.' The shep- 
herds are better off for provisions than the 
land farmers. I was supplied liberally with 
fresh butter, cheese, curds and whey, and mut- 
ton. I never fared better. 

O could I find some place unknown, 
Where human feet have never trod ; 

Even there I should not be alone, 
On every side there would be God. 

I came to a small village among the moun- 
tains, where I was kindly entertained at the 
Minister's house. It being Saturday, I obtain- 
ed lodgings, and was provided with food till 
Monday morning. I was persuaded to attend 
the Kirk, a very plain building. The service 
commenced at eleven o'clock, in English. It 
was attended by people from among the moun- 
tains many miles around. Some of the people 
came twelve and fourteen miles to hear the 
Word of God. The Minister preached on tem- 
perance. After it was over, the people came 
out of Kirk for fifteen minutes to take refresh- 
ment, after which they went into the Kirk 
again, and the Minister preached a second ser- 
mon in Gaelic. All was peaceful ; and the next 



40 LIFE OF A VAGKANT. 

day I walked througli tlie glen, and toward 
evening found myself near the sea-coast, at 
the town of Helmsdale, where I had lodged 
three months before. I returned to the south 
through the same places I had been in before. 
I came to the town of Dingwall, in Ross-shire, 
near which are some mineral waters. The 
country about Dingwall is beautiful and well 
peopled. I called at a gentleman's hall, but 
was refused assistance. The next day I took 
a walk among the hills, and gathered nearly 
two pecks of oatmeal. In returning through 
a wood, I saw a gentleman's house. I found I 
had been there the day before. I crossed over 
the grass plot towards the gate. I saw a man 
coming toward me, dressed like a gamekeeper. 
He asked me where I came from. I told him 
from England. He asked me what made me 
trespass on gentlemen's grounds, and what I 
had on my back. I told him oatmeal. Where 
did I get it from. I told him I begged it at 
farm-houses. He said, ^^Are you not ashamed 
of it?" I answered, "Yes" — but could not 
help it. He pulled out his purse, and gave 
me a shilling, telling me not to let him see me 
there again. 

I passed on to Beauly, near to which is the 
seat of Lord Lovat. From there I went to In- 



HOME FOR THE WINTER. 41 

verness, where I stayed some time. Passing 
through Nairn, Forres, and Elgin, I bent my 
way alongside the beautiful river Spey to Gran- 
ton. Six miles from Granton I called at a small 
farm-house. As it was harvest time, the farmer 
asked me if I would help them to get in their 
corn. I said I could not reap, not being brought 
up amongst it. He asked me to bind the corn for 
him. I consented : and after having some food, 
went with them to the cornfields. When they 
had shown me the way, I continued binding 
the corn after the reapers, till all the corn was 
cut, and then helped them to bring it home and 
stack it. When this was done, the farmer said, 
as the winter would soon come, I had better 
stay with them till the spring. I agreed to do 
this, and he set me to dig potatoes and turnips, 
cuts the tops off, and thrash the corn, and many 
a stroke my poor head got with the flail. Our 
house stood on a small hill, a little distance 
from the turnpike road, six miles from the 
small town of Grafton, and twelve from Inch- 
luin in the parish of Duthill, near the banks of 
the river Spey. On the one side was a ridge 
of mountains, on the other, at a distance, could 
be seen the Grampian Hills, whose lofty sum- 
mits were, for the most part of the year, cover- 
ed with snow. For many miles there were no 
4* 



42 LIFE OF A VAGKANT. 

hedges, nor any barrier from one farm to anoth- 
er. Here and there, the sides of the river were 
spread over with plantations of Scotch fir. The 
people spoke G-selic, but the men, for the mo^ 
part, could speak English. The family in 
which I lived, consisted of Ijie farmer and his 
wife, two children, and a servant girl. My 
master could speak English, but the rest could 
only speak Gaelic. If the mistress wanted me 
to do anything, when the master was out, it 
was by signs she made herself understood. 
About a hundred yards from where we lived, 
stood the house in which my master ^s fa- 
ther and mother dwelt, with her other son and 
two daughters who carried on the farm. They 
would frequently come and spend the eve- 
ning with us, and teach me many words in 
Gaelic, and would be highly amused to hear me 
pronounce them. When the nights set in, the 
men would assemble in one house, and sit in a 
circle round the fire, conversing with each other, 
and the owner of the house would sit in a cor- 
ner, and setting light to a few pieces of fir, cut 
small, would keep continually adding more 
bits of wood as they burnt out, thus supplying 
them with light. After lighting a pipe and 
smoking a few minutes, he would hand it to 
the next, after he had smoked, and so on, till 



A FAMILY PARTY. 43 

they had all smoked. The women would sit 
with their spinning-wheels by themselves, 
spinning while the potatoes were boiling. 
"When the potatoes were done, the good wife 
would take a few of them on a plate and hand 
them all around, for every one present to take 
out. AYhen the visitors were gone, she beat 
the potatoes together for the family supper, and 
a wooden jug with milk and a horn-spoon was 
given to each person. 

While I was there the Holy Spirit seemed 
to be striving with me. My master had an 
English Bible, which I often used to read. The 
thought of my poor father, and the uneasiness I 
had caused him would often grieve me. When 
I first came to live among them, I told the peo- 
ple that my fath.er and mother were dead. Af- 
ter some time I told them that my father was 
ahve, and having procured pen, ink, and paper, 
I wrote to him desiring him to send me an an- 
swer directed to the care of Mr. Grant, parish 
ofDuthill, Strathspey, county of Moray. Next 
morning I waited on the turnpike road for the 
postman's coming by five o'clock. Seeing a 
man coming by I asked him the time ; instead 
of answering me, he ran away as fast as his legs 
could carry him, thinking perhaps I was a foot- 
pad. The postman made his appearance soon 



44 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

after, and I gave him my letter. In a few days, 
learning there was a letter in the post-oflBce for 
me, I went to Granton for it. The letter was 
franked. The following is the substance : — 

*^ My dear Son, — 

" I received your letter. I have been in 
a deal of anxiety about you, not knowing what 
had become of you, but the receipt of your kind 
letter has banished it all. God is better to me 
than all my fears. that I could learn to trust 
Him more, and praise Him better. O my son 
Josiah, seek the salvation of your precious soul. 
Flee to the Lord Jesus Christ for refuge, for 
there is no other way of salvation but through 
him. He is made of God unto us wisdom, 
righteousness, sanctification, and redemption. 
Your sister Mary is gone to live with the Eev. 
Mr. Wright. Your brother is with me in the 
house ; they are both well, and send their loves 
to you. My health is improved. I showed 
your letter to Mr. Boyce, who kindly took this 
letter to Mr. Calvert and got it franked.. Write 
to me again as soon as you can. Let me know 
how you spend your Sabbaths. No more at 
present from your affectionate father. 

"Henry Basset/' 



CKOSSING A RIVER. 45 

After this, I carried on a montlily corres- 
pondence with my father. His letters were 
full of spiritual instruction and advice. These 
letters had some influence npon me, and caused 
me to read the Bible and say my prayers night 
and morning. My mind was at times drawn 
out in spiritual reflections. 

Being secluded among the mountains, I did 
not feel the influence of my evil passions. 
There was no place of worship near. The 
church was four miles away, across the moun- 
tains. I did not go there, having to mind the 
cattle. One day I was sent to a neighboring 
moss, with the horse and cart, to bring home 
peat. On crossing the river, having no bridle 
reins, the horse took it into his head to go over 
the river the shortest way. I called to him to 
keep him in the right way to ford the river, 
but could not get him to mind me. He made 
his way to the nearest shore through the deep- 
est part of the river. The water half filled the 
cart in which I was sitting, and the horse had 
to swim. The opposite bank was steep, but 
the horse managed, with a desperate struggle, 
almost tipping me out behind, and I got safe 
on shore. Some drovers left sixty sheep to 
feed on the farm. During winter I had the 
care of them. Every morning I had to go up 



46 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

the mountain, taking a shepherd's dog with me, 
and gather the sheep together, and count them, 
and if I missed anj of them I would go in 
search of them on the mountain till I found 
them and brought them back again. (0 how 
beautifully does this remind me of that good 
Shepherd who since sought and found my poor 
wandering soul, brought me to his fold, and 
made me feed upon the riches of his grace.) 

The dogs could not understand English. 
One of the sheep would not keep with the rest, 
but wandered by itself. Sometimes a sheep 
would die of the brocksey, and being washed 
and salted, was eaten ; the horns and shoes be- 
ing kept to show the owner. 

While I stayed here, there was a christening. 
All the relations were invited to a feast. Bro- 
thers and sisters, uncles and aunts, cousins, 
grandfathers and grandmothers, and a numer- 
ous train of children. Several fowl, butter, 
cheese, and whiskey lay upon the table. Eve- 
ry traveller that came to the door was treated 
to a glass of whiskey, and the whole company 
partook of the luxury — tea, being the first 
time, since I had lived with them : (but by-the- 
by, we were pinched for a month after to make 
up for it.) 

A tailor that used to work from house to 



A MAN LOST ON THE MOUNTAINS. 47 

house, for so much a day and his food, went 
one day to a burying over the hill. At the 
death of any person the neighbors assemble in 
the house, and partake temperately of bread 
and cheese and whiskey provided for them. 
If it is a poor person they all give something 
towards funeral expenses, according to their 
ability ; nothing less than sixpence* The coffin 
is borne by six men on a bier. It is followed 
by a crowd of men, in no regular order, who 
take their turns in carrying. The women do 
not follow the corpse, but sit in the house to 
condole with the widow. This tailor, in com- 
ing back over the mountains, separated from 
his companions on the top, each taking his own 
way. He had been drinking freely of whiskey. 
Not coming home that night, nor the next day, 
the men were called together to seek for him. 
About fifty men assembled at the foot of the 
mountain, and spread themselves, ten yards 
apart, so that they might see anything that lay 
between them, might not lose one another, and 
communicate the intelligence to all when they 
found him. They continued searching till 
night without success, and part of the next 
day, when he was found quite dead. 

One morning, it being very fine, my master 
told me to put the cattle out, and clean the 



48 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

byre. All at once a dreadful storm of snow 
began. After covering myself with a plaid, I 
went out and brought the cattle home, and af- 
ter tying them up in their places, I brought 
some oaten straw and put it before them to eat. 
Inputting some between two cows, one of them, 
eager to get at the fodder, tossing her head 
about, struck me a severe blow on the mouth 
with her horns. I thought that every tooth in 
my head was broken. The pain I felt was 
great, the blood flowed from my mouth, two 
of my front teeth were broken quite short. 
Christmas came. The men assembled in the 
fields and played at their favorite game, hockey. 
Each man has a club, with a hook at the end, 
and after throwing up a ball, each party tries 
to knock the ball with the clubs their own 
way. In scuffling to get the ball they fre- 
quently kick one another's shins. At night 
they have a highland dance in the school-room, 
a fiddler being paid to play. 

After staying about five months, there not 
being much work to do, my master told me to 
leave for a month, and come back again. I 
proceeded through a most romantic country to 
Inverness. The people were very kind to me. 
I tarried at Inverness a week, and then went 
through Beauley and Dingwall, to Invergorden. 



AN UNEASY CONSCIENCE. 49 

I experienced a slight attack of the ag-ae, and 
was almost deprived of speech for some days. 
I thought it was a judgment from God for tell- 
ing so many falsehoods for a livelihood, and 
resolved, if I should recover, I would leave off, 
as much as possible, the practice of telling lies. 
It pleased God to restore me from sickness, and 
the use of my speech came again. The im- 
pression made on my mind by sickness passed 
away like the morning dew. The people, 
wherever I went, were very kind to me. Find- 
ing I was doing well, and saving money, I de- 
termined not to go back to Strathspey, but 
went through Elgin, Banff, Frazerburgh, to 
Aberdeen, Here I fell into vice, and passed 
through scenes I forbear to describe. After 
staying a week in this sad way I travelled to 
Perth, and from that city went through the 
county of Fife. This county is fruitful, well 
cultivated, and abounds in excellent coal. 
There are in it a number of towns, the largest 
are Kirkcaldy and Dunfermline. Leaving Fife, 
I revisited Stirling, and having got into (Jebt 
there, determined on going a few weeks into 
the Highlands and come back again. I trav- 
elled on through Dumblane and Comrie. The 
scenery is highly romantic. As the road takes 
its windings up the hill you look at the open 

5 



50 LIFE OF A VAGRAXT. 

country below for many miles ; towns, villages, 
farms, cottages, and noblemen's halls, with riv- 
ers and brooks rolling on their murmuring 
way. On the other side, the lofty hills, and 
torrents of water rolling down the deep chasms, 
whose sides were covered with noble pines. 
High on an eminence stood Drummond Castle, 
the seat of the Dunbars. Not a sound was 
heard, but the sweet singing of birds and the 
gurgling stream. Further on was the beauti- 
ful Loch Earn, about eight miles long and two 
broad. Its surface being agitated by the wind 
caused waves to beat against the shore. Par- 
ties of pleasure were fishing in the middle. At 
the head of the Loch is a small village, consist- 
ing of an inn, a shop, a blacksmith's, a lodg- 
ing-house, and a number of poor cottages. 

Having lodged two nights at Loch Earn 
Head, I proceeded over a wild moor, where 
was nothing to be seen but heather, till I ar- 
rived at the other side, where a beautiful pros- 
pect again opened before me. Lofty moun- 
tains, craggy precipices, deep glens, a lovely 
village, and the wide extensive Loch Tay, 
twelve miles in length. On both sides of the 
Loch were high mountains, whose sides near 
the bottom were cultivated in small farms. I 
obtained lodgings at a small farm. After sup- 



VILE CONDUCT. 51 

per, the farmer brought some straw from the 
barn, made me up a bed in one comer, and 
covered it with blankets and sacks. In the 
room was a little pig, which had been kept in 
doors, and lay by the fire, and played with the 
children. In the middle of the night, having 
arranged my wardrobe as I was accustomed to 
do, I lay down and slept till morning. On 
awaking and looking up, I saw the pig trailing 
my shirt about the room, and trampling it with 
his feet. At the end of the Loch was the vil- 
lage, and the castle of Taymouth, the seat of 
the Earl of Bredalbane. Here the river Tay 
commences, fed by the Loch, which winds its 
way through a pleasant country in which there 
are a great many gentlemen's seats. I came 
to the small town of Dunkeld, the seat of the 
Dake of Buccleugh. From Dunkeld the coun- 
try is open, and large farms to Perth. After 
a fortnight's round in the Highlands I came 
back to Stirling with ten shillings in my pock- 
et, and paid the money I owed. In a week I 
left Stirling and passed through Killsyth and 
KirkintuUoch to Glasgow. There I fell into 
my old sins. After a few days I went to Kil- 
patrick and Dumbarton. I then proceeded 
through a mountainous country till I arrived 
at the Loch Monteith, and from there, over a 



52 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

liill, to LocLl Aird, which seems completely 
surrounded with mountains. There are but 
two houses alongside the Loch, and an inn at 
one end, where they let out boats for fishing. 
After reaching the end of the Loch, I came to 
a shepherd ^s house and helped them to get in 
their corn. Leaving the shepherd's I came to 
the end of Loch Katrine. It is about eight 
miles long, and two broad. Here are no houses, 
but the Loch is encircled with steep and lofty 
black mountains — no singing birds or purling 
streams — the steep sides of the lofty mountains 
overshadowing the water beneath, being com- 
pletely barren, presented an awful appearance. 
All was still as death. 

Leaving Loch Katrine and ascending a steep 
mountain, not without difficulty, I reached the 
summit. Sitting down on a large stone to rest, 
I looked on the scene by which I was sur- 
rounded. Loch Aird and Loch Katrine on one 
side, and Loch Lomond on the other, with a 
steep waterfall, and Ben Lomond, all at once 
were presented to my admiring gaze. On 
reaching the bottom of the mountain, I found 
myself at the head of Loch Lomond, near the 
waterfall. Steamboats, with pleasure parties, 
were seen going and coming, with bands of 
music. The Loch is fourteen miles long and 



LOCH LOMOND. 53 

three broad. Its banks are covered with, ver- 
dure. There is a carriage-road through a pleas- 
ant country, gentlemen's seats and woods on 
the one side, the other side, on which I was, 
too steep to admit of a road. The mistress of 
the public-house came out, and laid a plank 
across the part of the waterfall, for me to step 
over. I proceeded along the steep bank of the 
Loch by a narrow footpath, hardly big enough 
to admit of my feet, and one false step would 
have plunged me into the Loch beneath. This 
side of the Loch was covered partly with trees, 
and in part with corn. The bank was so steep 
that a horse could not walk on it, so that the 
people after reaping their corn, carried it home 
on their backs in bundles. 

Leaving Loch Lomond, I went to Dumblane, 
and from thence to Loch Earn Head, through 
a dreary road between barren mountains, the 
houses being few and far between. From there 
I travelled over a romantic country to Invera- 
ry, often walking twelve miles without seeing 
a house. Inverary is a small but pretty town 
on the banks of Loch Fyne, a salt-water Loch, 
or arm of the sea, sixty miles long, in the coun- 
ty of Argyle. Passing on by Fort William 
and Fort Augustus, I came to a country called 
Lochaber. Here I attempted to cross a rapid 
5^ 



54 LIFE OF A VAGRAKT. 

bourne; the bottom of it was covered with 
stones which were difficult to walk on. I 
found the water deeper than I expected. Be- 
ing up to the middle, it was with difficulty I 
kept from being carried down with the force 
of the water. A man called to me to return, 
and not to attempt to go across. I got safe out 



The people at Lochaber are most of them 
Eoman Catholics. I lodged at a small farm. 
Seeing a Bible, I opened it, and began to read 
The mistress asked me if I was a Catholic. I 
told her no, I was a Protestant. She replied, 
she thought Protestants did not read the Bible. 
From Lochaber I came to Badenoch, and to 
my surprise found myself on the banks of the 
Spey. Being so near my old master's, I deter- 
mined on calling. He was not at home ; but 
on the road to Granton I met my master and 
his brother, returning home with their carts 
and horses. He persuaded me to come back 
and stay with him. On New Year's Day, 
having gone to bed, my mind was filled with 
serious thoughts, when my master came and 
called me to get up and go with him to the 
dance in the school-room. The room was 
lighted up, the people were dancing, and whis- 



THE CHOLEEA. 55 

key was freely handed about. I drank three 
glasses, the effects of which were soon yisible. 
Though I knew nothing about dancing, I got 
up and danced with them, at which they were 
highly amused. I left the room and going 
into the open air, I reeled to and fro, not being 
able to stand. My master came out and led 
me a few yards from the place and left me ly- 
ing in the snow, covered with a plaid. I went 
fast Asleep. My master came after to awake 
me, and with difficulty succeeded in conveying 
me to the next house, where I lay till morning. 
As the spring advanced, I was set to the 
plough, but I made such crooked, uneven fur- 
rows, that my master had to plough them over 
again. I was likewise set to harrow, and 
to set potatoes. After all these things were 
done, and the work began to slack, they began 
to stint me in the quantity of my food. After 
staying seven months, I determined on leav- 
ing. 

I returned therefore to Inverness. The 
cholera at this time was raging in the south of 
Scotland, and the Magistrates, to prevent its 
coming to them, gave orders to check the mi- 
gration of the P9gr. Any persons harboring 
travellers were to be fined. Constables were 
stationed at the entrance of towns to intercept 



56 LIFE OF A VAGKAKT. 

them. A constable led me tlirougli Inver- 
ness. When I came to a bridge about half- 
way to Dingwall I was stopped, and not suf- 
fered to go over. I therefore travelled by the 
waterside until I came to a ferry, where I 
crossed the water by the boat. I came into a 
wood, and after straying some time, ap- 
proached a noble mansion. As I passed by 
the stables, a female servant came out of the 
laundry and asked where I was going, i told 
her I was going to the kitchen. She said it 
was time for me to seek lodgings. It being 
eight o'clock, I told her I had not seen a farm- 
house since I crossed the ferry. She took me to 
the kitchen, and brought me some supper. The 
family was not at home. She then made up a 
bed for me in the laundry, and washed the 
clothes in my bundle. Seeing my feet bruised 
and bleeding with clambering over the rocks, 
she bathed them in warm water, put a plaister 
on the wounds, and left me in the laundry for 
the night. The next morning she gave me a 
good breakfast, and while I eat it ironed my 
things, and gave me more plaister for my feet. 
I then took my leave and travelled through 
various towns to Dumfries. I had considera- 
ble difficulty in getting lodgings, and was not 
allowed to stay for a night at several places 



FAKEWELL TO SCOTLAKD. 57 

where I wished to stop at. Having a desire to 
see my father I determined on going to Lon- 
don. From Dumfries I went on to Annan, and 
then through Longholm, where I attended 
chapel, to Jedburgh. I next came to Wooler 
on the borders of Northumberland, thus leav- 
ing Scotland, not without grateful recollections 
of its hospitality. 

I went the same way to London as I did 
coming from it, so I need not trouble you with 
a description. On arriving in London I went 
to St. George's Workhouse, after three years' 
absence, to see my father, who was very glad to 
meet me again, though laboring under severe 
trials. My brother and sister were both lying 
bad with the decline, of which they soon after 
died. The same day my brother was buried, 
my sister died. My father bore these strokes 
with Christian submission to the will of God. 

The parish officers, having given me a few 
shillings, and a new pair of shoes, I expended 
most of the money in needles, bodkins, and 
needle-cases. After trying to sell them in Lon- 
don without success, I went into Essex, where 
in a few days I sold all my stock and returned to 
London for more. I attended public worship 
on Sunday and had a desire to become religious, 
but as I was in the habit of telling lies in sell- 



58 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

ing my goods, and thought that lying was in- 
dispensable in hawking, I dropped going. I 
was industrious, persevering, and honest, as 
far as the world would let me, as the saying is, 
only sometimes I fell into my old habits of 
vice. As my stock of goods was increasing, I 
purchased new clothes, laid by money, and for 
years enjoyed comparative prosperity, ranging 
the country for sixty miles round London, 
always returning for fresh stock, and took the 
opportunity of visiting my father. For a long 
time my father was very ill, and waited, with 
joyous expectation, the hour that should set 
his soul at liberty from his frail body, rejoicing 
in hope of being with Christ forever. It 
pleased God, in some measure, to restore him 
to health. I was glad to see him so far re- 
covered, and to contribute something towards 
his temporal comfort. Having purchased a 
large stock, I sent them down into the country 
by wagon. I went and stayed till all my 
goods were sold. On my return, I was told 
that my father had died suddenly of the chol- 
era, and was buried the same day. I felt 
deeply his loss, bereft now of all that was 
dear to me in the world. O my father, thou 
art gone where nothing will vex thy pure and 
happy spirit ! Thou hast left a good testimo- 



A CHRISTIA^r PARENT. 59 

ny behind thee that thou art gone to be with 
Christ. I deserve to lose thee. When thou 
wast on earth I sHghted thy counsel and 
grieved thy spirit by my wicked ways. How 
often thy fervent prayers have ascended to 
God on my behalf! No monumental marble ; 
no engraved stone marks the spot where thy 
body is laid. No train of mourners, w^th 
hoods and scarves, followed thy corpse to the 
ground. But, O, I think I could see thy im 
mortal spirit escorted by angels to heaven, and 
set free from its prison of clay, thy flesh also 
shall rest in hope of a joyful resurrection. 

Of my father's early days I know but little, 
save that his parents were in respectable cir- 
cumstances. He was apprenticed to a baker, 
and worked at his trade as journeyman. Of 
the time and manner of his conversion I have 
no information. At the death of a relation he 
received four hundred pounds, with which he 
opened a shop, and sold Staffordshire and chi- 
na ware. After a few years he failed in busi- 
ness. His goods were sold off to pay his cred- 
itors. My father was subject to fits which ren- 
dered him unable to work at his trade, and for 
years he struggled hard to maintain his family 
by carrying about, in a barrow, turf and fire- 
wood for sale. From what I have written of 



60 LIFE OF A VAORAIS'T. 

my own course you may gather that his life 
was one of severe and long-continued suffering; 
but each succeeding trial was blessed to his 
soul. His faith and hope grew stronger. He 
grew more patient and humble. The last ten 
years of his life were spent in St. George's 
workhouse, where amidst scenes of wickedness 
that were going on around him, his walk was 
consistent, the Word of God was his daily 
study, prayer and praise his business and de- 
light. He strictly adhered to truth, was a du- 
tiful son, kind husband, an affectionate parent; 
to sum up all in one expression, a sincere 
Christian. 

After I had been hawking about three years, 
a variety of circumstances tended to diminish 
my stock, till I got both out of money and 
goods. I went to the parish ofl&cers to try to 
get a few shillings to set me up again, but 
could not obtain any from them. The prospect 
of once more going a begging for my bread filled 
me with grief and fear. I sold off my box and 
a fcAv books that were in it, and bought a small 
stock of goods. I left London, but my goods 
went off so slowly that when they were sold I 
had no money to get more. I bent my course 
to the west, going by Pool to Wareham. The 
next morning Avas Good Friday. Having 



MENDICITY OFFICE. 61 

• 

neither money in my pocket nor anything to 
eat, and the rain pouring fast, I went about the 
town till I got a piece of bread, but could not 
obtain any money, so I set out for Dorchester 
(eighteen miles off) the rain pouring the whole 
day. My clothes were as wet as if I had been 
dipped in a pond. Having taken up my lodg- 
ings at a small public-house, some hav/kers 
persuaded me to go and get the relief allowed 
by the town to travellers, directing me where 
to go. I went, and after asking me a few ques- 
tions, they gave me a ticket for a night's lodg- 
ing, a pint of beer, and bread and cheese. The 
ticket was to the same house, so I slept there. 
The next morning I had breakfast. A jour- 
neyman hatter, on tramp, having nothing to 
eat, I shared what food I had with him. I 
walked on to Beaminster and from there 
through Chard and Honiton to Exeter, where 
I arrived at nine o'clock. I went for relief to 
the mendicity ofl&ce. The man being out, his 
wife came to the door and asked who sent me. 
I told her a gentleman I met in the street. Af- 
ter asking me a number of questions, she said, 
" What money have you got ? Turn out your 
pockets and let me see." Among the things I 
had in my pockets were a few broken needle 
cases, a ball of twine, and a piece of brimstone. 

6 



62 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

She said, you are a regular beggar ; and put* 
ting her closed fist to my face, and shaking her 
head, with an angry countenance, said, *' I wish 
I were a man for your sake.'' Finding, how- 
ever, she could not frighten me away, she gave 
me a ticket to take next door, and with it I 
procured a pound of bread, a good slice of 
cheese, a pint of small beer, and a bed for the 
night. In the morning, the woman where I 
slept advised me to go again and ask for a ticket 
for breakfast. I did so, and after being abused 
by both husband and wife, obtained what I 
wanted. Proceeding to the west, I came to 
Newton Bushell in the evening. It had been 
raining, my clothes were wet. I applied to the 
overseer for relief. He sent me with a ticket 
to the workhouse, where I received bread and 
cheese with some small cider, and was put into 
a kind of dungeon, to lay upon the straw, wet 
and cold, until morning. Being set at liberty 
I went through Totness to Plymouth, and from 
thence into Cornwall through St. Austell to 
Penryn and Falmouth, and took a walk to 
Flushing, a fishing-town opposite. On return- 
ing to Penryn, I went through a wood to a 
gentleman's house. There was no person living 
in the house, but some carpenters at work. 
One of them asked me what trade I was. I 



PROPERTIES OF DECEIT. 68 

told him I was a needle-maker, but that the 
steel-dust had injured my sight, so that I could 
not any longer work at my trade. He went to 
his fellow- workmen and gathered me sixpence, 
saying to me, believing what you say to be 
true, we have collected you this money ; but 
if what you say is false, it is known to God and 
He will bring you to judgment. These words 
went like a dagger to my heart, and, though 
the impression soon wore off, yet they have 
often been brought to mind."^ 

Leaving Penryn I went to Helstone, where 
I witnessed a singular ceremony. On the morn- 
ing of the 8th of May I was awakened by the 

^ " The properties of deceit ought to make us detest the no- 
tion of it, wherever we find it in others. The first property, 
by which it distinguishes itself is, that it can never be employ- 
ed with success, but for a wicked purpose. This demonstrates 
a dark and deep malignity, so riveted in its very nature, that 
to eternity it can never be separated from it even in thought. 
Its next property is folly, which also makes an essential part 
of its nature. Its third property is cowardice. If a man has 
true resolution and bravery, he would never, in the most op- 
pressive distress, stoop to base arts for relief : he would rath- 
er die a martyr to honesty. It is only because a man hath 
not the courage to look oppression or adversity in the face, 
that he turns his dastardly mind to the author of falsehood 
for protection. The fourth property of deceit is slavishness. 
A man conscious of deceit in himself, knows he cannot suc- 
cessfully pursue such schemes as his, if he is not prepared to 
bear a great deal from others. And if he is sensible his 
falsehood is known to the world, he is then forced to truckle, 
and take patiently the most contemptuous treatment that can 
be given to him. As he hath no honor, he cannot expect to 
be used with any ceremony." 



64 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

sound of the drum and pipes,, and a number 
of men and boys shouting through the town. 
After breakfast the yeomanry went through 
their exercise. The houses were decorated 
with wreaths of flowers, and the archway, at 
the end of the town, was hung with beautiful 
festoons. The principal street was thronged 
Avith people from the surrounding country, car- 
rying nosegays in their hands, or garlands of 
flowers on their heads. A band of music play- 
ed through the streets, walking on the foot 
pavement, followed by sixty couples of young 
men and women dancing. The doors of the 
principal houses were thrown open. The band 
played through them, followed by the dancers, 
dancing in at one door and out at the other till 
they came to the archway, where they would 
stop, and after a little rest the band would 
march through, the town as before, accompa- 
nied by forty couples of old men and women 
dancing. Next came a company of young la- 
dies and gentlemen dancing, accompanied with 
their violin players. In the evening, a ball at 
the head inn concluded the day's amusement. 
I inquired the reason of this display. The ac- 
counts given me were various, but the most 
part agreed that many years ago, a great fiery 
dragon flew over the town, without hurting it, 



THE MINES OF CORNWALL. 65 

and that this festival has been kept up ever 
since on the 8th of May, and is called Flora 
day. From Helstone I came to Truro, and from 
thence to Eedruth. This county abounds in 
copper and tin mines. There are many thou- 
sands of miners employed searching for ore. 
The machinery presents a curious appearance 
to strangers. Some of these mines are two 
thousand feet deep. They are obliged to have 
steam-engines at the top of the shaft to pump 
the water out. The ore, after it is procured 
from the mine, is crushed in a mill to powder 
and washed, the water carrying away the mix- 
ture of stone while the metal is left behind. It 
is then put into bags and sent to be smelted. 
The country around the mines is very barren, 
but this is amply made up by the immense 
stores of wealth which are concealed beneath. 
The people of Cornwall are kind to strangers, 
but very inquisitive. The coast is well sup- 
plied with fish. Leaving Eedruth I came to 
Penzance. As I was going from door to door 
in one of the back streets of the town, a person 
who held ofl&ce as French Consul, came up to 
me, and laying hold of my collar, said he would 
take me to prison. I went quietly with him 
till he came to a narrow passage, where two 
could not walk together, and he let go his hold. 



66 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

I turned sharp round and run down a street 
and he after me. My shoes being bad, I could 
not run very fast, so he soon caught me, and 
tried to pull me back. I refused to go. He 
called to the boys to go and fetch a constable. 
Finding he was too strong, I lay down in the 
street and kicked at him. A number of fish- 
women gathered round him and began to abuse 
him. At length he said, ** Will you go out of 
the town, if I let you go?^' I promised I would. 
So he let me go. 

Leaving Penzance I went to the Land's End, 
lodging at the inn called the ''First and Last." 
The land goes out to a narrow point, a bold 
stupendous cliff. ^^ The Islands of Scilly may 
be seen, at a distance, to the west. As I re- 
turned to Penzance, near to Marazion, I wit- 
nessed a Cornish wrestling match. I now came 
back to Truro and thence to St. Columb, where 
I went about begging. There was a Justice 
meeting that day in the town. A constable 
came to me and said he was sent by the Jus- 
tices to bring me before them. I refused to go, 
and tried to get away, but could not. One 
took hold of me by the legs and another by 
my arms, and carried me. I kicked with all 

* Lo on a narrow neck of land, 
Twixt two unbounded seas I stand, <fec. 



SEAKCH FOR PROPERTY. 67 

my strength, when they bumped my back 
against the stones. Being brought before the 
Magistrates, I was sent for one month to Bod- 
min gaol, where I had to work on the tread- 
mill, fed on bread and water. When my time 
expired I received two shillings and some bread. 
From Bodmin I went to Bristol, through Tavi- 
stock, Taunton, and Bridgewater. After a 
short stay in Bristol, I walked to Gloucester 
and Mitchel Dean. Going into a public-house, 
a man asked me what I would take for all the 
money I had. I said sixpence. My coat be- 
ing originally a black one, was patched with 
pieces of canvas. The man, after putting six- 
pence into another person's hands to hold, told 
me to strip. I pulled off my coat and waist- 
coat, and out tumbled threepence halfpenny on 
the floor, at which they all laughed, saying, 
" Here it comes !" After searching my clothes, 
and not finding any more, they gave me a pen- 
ny each and a dinner of boiled pork, pudding, 
and greens. 

I now travelled into Wales, going through 
EosS; Monmouth, and Brecon to Merthyr Tydvil, 
which is the centre of the iron works and coal 
mines. Hundreds of men are employed in pro- 
curing iron-stone, and working at the forges. 
To view them at night one would think that 



68 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

the whole country was on fire. The blasts of 
the furnaces, the thumping of the iron rollers, 
and the noise of the steam-engines, cause a cu- 
rious sensation. The men at work, with the 
glare of the furnaces shining on their faces, 
made them appear like fiends. The depart- 
mxcnts of labor are various : some getting iron- 
stone out of the quarry, some melting the ore 
at the kiln, some to mould, and others to pass 
the pigs of iron through iron rollers. As the 
people are paid only once a month there were 
companies' shops, where the people could go 
and buy things on account, but they were 
charged very dear. 

I now w^ent to Nantyglo, Pontypool, New- 
port, Cardiff, Blackwood, Llantrissant, Aber- 
afon, and Twiney, where are copper mines, and 
a number of Cornish miners. 

Hearing there was a new way to Hirwaun 
across the mountaitis, I set out to go there. 
Passing by a number of farm-houses, I came 
to the foot of the mountains. The sun was set, 
and the shades of night were fast gathering 
around. My way lay across the desolate and 
lonely mountain, having no one foj* my guide 
or companion. For a while I followed a cart 
track, but after I got fairly on the mountain, I 
could no longer trace any path. I was com- 



DARK MOUNTAINS. 69 

pletely bewildered, but determined to keep in 
one direction. Finding I was greatly impeded 
by my old shoes, I threw them away, and trav- 
elled barefoot, making my way through briers, 
heather, water, and everything else that lay in 
my way. The lines of the poet came to my 
recollection : — 

Here, forlorn and lost 

I tread my lonely "way, 
And wilds immeasurably spread 

Seem lengthening as I stray. 

After wandering some time on the mountain, 
I saw at a great distance a redness in the sky ; 
believing it to be the reflection of some iron- 
works, I went in that direction. In a short 
time I saw, on my left, what appeared to be a 
number of coke fires burning ; supposing them 
to be near the mouth of some coal-pit, I tried 
to make my way down to them to inquire the 
road, as it was now quite dark. Finding the 
ground was more steep, I trode cautiously. At 
length it got so very precipitous that I was 
forced to hold by my hands and feet, like go- 
ing down a ladder. Imagining I should soon 
reach the bottom, I continued getting down 
until I could no further hold on my feet. The 
stones and earth I had caused to roll down, 
seemed to fall, at a great depth beneath, into a 



70 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

body of water. I was now in a rather perilous 
position, suspended by my two hands over a 
dreadful precipice. My coat, being old and 
tender, and the pockets full of bread and meat, 
one side of the tail gave way and was dangling 
against my heels. A single false step would 
have plunged me into the water below, and 
my soul into eternity. But blessed be God for 
his mercy in sparing me to repentance. • With 
much trouble I got to the top again, and after 
wandering about some time longer, I came to a 
tram road and followed it until I came to Her- 
waun, where I obtained lodgings and tarried a 
week. The next town I came to was Neath. 
I went forward through Swansea, Llanelly, 
Kidwelly, Caermarthen, Tenbigh, and Haver- 
fordwest to Milford. In the spacious and con- 
venient harbor, formed by nature, in this sea- 
port, there lay three hundred ships of all sizes. 
It was a beautiful sight. A thousand ships 
might ride here in safety. 

From Milton I proceeded by the way of Fish- 
guard and Cardigan to Aberystwith; thence 
to Machynlleth, Dolgelly, Maentwrog, and 
Carnarvon. While at the last mentioned place, 
two constables took me to the lockups. On 
getting there, I pulled off my coat and waist- 
coat, and twisted the latter round my neck. 



MAGDALEK. 71 

The constables came in and said one to another, 
** He is in a fit." As it was Saturday night, 
lest they should have any trouble with me on 
Sunday, they told me to put on my clothes, 
and led me out of the town. 

I crossed over from Carnarvon to the Isle of 
Anglesea, and went to see a lighthouse, about 
two miles distant from Holyhead. I went to it 
by a road on the cliff until I reached a wind- 
ing footpath, descending about two hundred 
feet, by steps cut out of the solid rock, and 
then crossing over a small chain bridge entered 
the watch-tower. There were two families liv- 
ing in the lighthouse. The waves beat against 
the rock, so, I have thought since, the Church 
built on the Eock of Ages, stands secure amid 
all the floods of temptation, and the storms of 
persecution. 

Eeturning to Beaumaris, I crossed over the 
celebrated bridge of Menai to the main land, 
and went to Shrewsbury, where I gave way to 
my old temptations. At Wolverhampton I 
stayed at a house where they both lodged 
travellers and girls of the town. One of these 
girls I have heard frequently weep and express 
a desire to leave off her sinful course of life. 
She had several times given it up, and earned 
a scanty subsistence by sifting coal, until, tired 



72 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

of the hardships and privations she endured, 
she returned to her former course. What an 
act of charity would it have been to have given 
her counsel, assistance, und encouragement.^ 

Going through various towns, I came to Ken- 
dal in Westm^oreland. I was taken up for beg- 
ging, and committed for fourteen days to gaol. 
There were but seven prisoners, and we were 
allowed beef and potatoes five times a week for 



*The Rev. William Brock, at a meeting of the Young 
Man's Christian Association, related a deeply affecting instance 
of the happy results attending the exercise of Christian com- 
passion of this kind. He said, " In Church Lane, a place in 
St. Giles's, a self-denying man, whom I know very well, found 
a victim of intemperance and vice, and said to her, almost 
hopelessly, ' Won't you leave these haunts of infamy V At 
first these words of mercy produced no impression : she did 
not believe the man, I dare say. At last, my friend having 
plied her with kindness, she said, ' I wish I could.' ' Then 
you would go home, if you could. Have you a father V * I 
had a father once.' ' Give us his address.' My friend got the 
poor man's address, and at last prevailed on her so far as to 
say : 'Well, if he will take me home I will go ; but I cannot go, 
I have no clothing ; and as for getting so far away, it would be 
impossible.' Her visitor came to me ; and the Christian people 
among whom I want you to associate yourselves had the lux- 
ury of opening the way for her return to her father. On hear- 
ing from him, the old man who had long lost all traces of bis 
daughter, wrote a letter full of tenderness and gratitude, and 
in answering the inquiry, whether she would be again re- 
ceived at home, sa id, * The door is open for her ;' and then 
there is a great black mark, intimating how wide the door is 
opened for her : ' The door is open for her ti hiiwib wmib wide. 
Send her home.' We sent her home, and have heard from her 
again and again. She is doing well ; and the whole result is 
such as I do not think anything in the world could match, ex- 
cept similar cases in going about doing good." 



VAIN RESOLUTIONS. 73 

dinner, with porridge and milk for supper and 
breakfast. There was very little work to do. 
To pass the time, I read some good books and 
felt inclined to break off my sins. When 
locked up for the night I would go on my 
knees in prayer, and resolved to break off tell- 
ing lies. When I was liberated I guarded 
against lying, except when closely questioned; 
but all my good resolutions, made in my own 
strength, proved like a bundle of straw put to 
stop the swelling flood. 

From Kendal I passed through Ambleside 
and Keswick. This country abounds in the 
most beautiful lake scenery. I went on to 
Penrith and Carlisle, intending to go into Scot- 
land again ; but some travellers, coming from 
it, gave a bad account of it, so I turned towards 
Newcastle. When I had walked a little fur- 
ther than Hexham, I fell lame, and was not 
able to reach Newcastle that night. I came to 
a number of coke kilns. The men employed 
at them were sitting round a fire. I asked 
them to let me stay by the fire until morning. 
This they said the master would not allow, but 
I might get into one of the empty furnaces. 
I got into one which had a fire on each side. 
I soon found the side I lay on too hot, and 
turned to the other which was not much better. 



74 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

I kept turning from side to side, but tlie longer 
I Ifiy the hotter I becamej until my whole body 
became in a profuse sweat. Feeling quite faint, 
I opened the door and got out. I was no soon- 
er out than I began to shiver with the frosty 
night air. I went to the men, and they showed 
me some kilns that had not been used for a 
fortnight. One was warm, but not too hot, so 
I stayed till morning, when, being covered with 
dust, I washed myself in a brook and proceed- 
ed to Newcastle. Here I remained a week, 
and then returned through various towns until 
I reached Driffield, in Yorkshire. While beg- 
ging from door to door, a person, whom I took 
to be the vicar of that parish, came to me, and 
said that I must go with him. Expecting that 
when he got me to his house, he would com- 
mit me to gaol, when we came to a stile and 
a foot-path through the churchyard, I refused 
to get over the stile, saying, ^'I won't go that 
lonel}^ way. I know what you want. You 
only want to rob me. I have got three half- 
pence in my pocket, and you want to get me 
in that lonely place to take it from me." The 
vicar strove in vain to keep from laughing, and 
at length let me go. I went from Driffield to 
Beverley, and then to Hull. During this time 
my mind was greatly troubled. When I went 



RETROSPECT. 75 

to bed at night the thoughts of my sins would 
make the tears trickle down my cheeks. In a 
week I left Hull and came to North Cave. 
Not being able to procure lodgings, and as it 
was late, I turned into a field close by, and 
lay down in a shed. About eleven o'clock at 
night, two policemen came, and seeing me 
there, took me with them, and locked me up 
in a stable until morning. After giving me 
some breakfast, they took me in a gig to Bev- 
erley, where being brought before a magistrate, 
I was committed to Beverley gaol. Thus, my 
dear friend, I have given you an account of 
the leading features of my life, previous to my 
conversion. I have endeavored to keep with- 
in the bounds of truth, and feave my narrative 
unadorned by fiction. There are many things 
in it, which a regard for my character would 
lead me to conceal ; but, as my object in writ- 
ing is to show forth the glory of God, as dis- 
played in His abounding grace to the chief of 
sinners, I shall not shrink from making known 
the worst of my life. Whilst in an uncon- 
verted state, lying was my habitual practice ; 
unchastity was my besetting sin ; the Sabbath 
was a wearisome day, and I often wished it 
past. My conscience used frequently to smite 
me. The instructions I received from Sunday- 



76 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

school, and the thought of my parents would 
frequently trouble me. 

My life was one of continual uncertainty ; 
and often did I promise myself to become re- 
ligious at some future time, if I should ever 
become settled, and so not exposed to tempta- 
tion as when travelling. 



PART n. 



" Thou Shalt remember all the way which the Lord thy God led thee 
in the wilderness, to humble thee, and to prove thee, to know what waa 
in thine heart." 

" Come and hear, all ye that fear God, and I will declare what he hath 
done for my soul." 

In the month of May, 1838, while a prisoner 
in Beverley gaol, that event took place, of all 
others, the most important in my life, and 
which was followed by the happiest results. 

The name of Beverley awakens in my mind 
lively sensations of thankfulness and joy. Af- 
ter the day's work was over, and supper ended, 
the inmates of the prison were locked up in 
separate cells from six o'clock in the evening 
until six o'clock in the morning. At that time 
of the year, the days being long, there was for 
an hour or two, sufficient light to read by after 
we were shut up for the night. A Testament 
lay at the head of my bed. I opened and read. 
The passage to which my attention was direct- 
ed contained these solemn words of Jesus 
Christ: — ^* What shall it profit a man, if he 

7* 



78 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

shall gain the whole world, and lose his own 
soul ? Or what shall a man give in exchange 
for his soul ?" These words were applied to 
my mind with great power. I thought, if a 
man should gain the world, and then after death 
be sent to endless woe, how foolish am I to risk 
my eternal happiness for trifles, I have found 
the way of transgression hard in this life, how 
shall I endure the everlasting burnings? O 
what a wicked life have I led ! At this mo- 
ment the sins of my past life came into my 
mind. My unkindness to good parents. My 
frequent acts of nncleanness — the lies I had 
told — the mercies of God I had abused ; and 
the good resolutions I had made and broken. 
The burden of my guilt now felt intolerable. 
The terrors of the law made me afraid. I gave 
vent to my feelings in a flood of tears ! After 
some time sleep came to my agitated heart. 
My imprisonment gave me no concern. The 
salvation of my soul was the subject that filled 
my thoughts. I began to cry to God for mer- 
cy, and felt myself to be a poor miserable sin- 
ner. After a few days, a passage that I had 
learnt at Flint-Street school gave me great en- 
couragement. ^' All we, like sheep, have gone 
astray ; we have turned every one to his own 
way ; and the Lord hath laid on him the in- 



PENITENCE AND FAITH. 79 

iquity of us all." This seemed just applicable 
to my case. I saw my own character described 
as a poor, silly, wandering sheep, straying far 
from God, holiness, happiness, and peace, in 
my own way of folly, sin, and misery. Look- 
ing at the work of Jesus in bearing the load of 
my sins, T seemed to have a new view of Christ 
crucified. Did He die for me? Yes; I am 
the very character He came to save. I am a 
sinner, a great sinner ; but Jesus died for me. 
Ought I not to stay till I have mended my life, 
and then come to Christ? no ! my soul, no 
more delays ; I will go to Jesus just as I am. 
While confined in my cell, I poured out my 
soul to Jesus. I felt a sweet and happy liber- 
ty, as if Jesus had said to me, " Son, be of good 
cheer, thy sins are forgiven thee." My dark- 
ness was turned to light ; my sorrow to joy. I 
now looked upon Christ with new eyes, as the 
chiefest among ten thousand, and the altogether 
lovely ; and while I thought on his agonies, 
and sufferings, and death, my tears would again 
flow to think that my sins had helped thus to 
serve the Prince of Peace. 

As the Saviour grew every day more pre- 
cious and lovely to my soul, so sin grew every 
day more odious, and holiness of heart more 
and more to be desired. But when I thought 



80 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

of the high standard of piety, holiness, and use- 
fulness to which believers in Christ are taught 
in the holy Scripture to aspire, my soul trem- 
bled at the thoughts of my own weakness and 
insufficiency to do any good. A poor despised, 
wandering beggar, whose mind has been long 
enslaved with lusts and sin ; whose life has 
been useless, and a burden on society. While 
confinedu here I am not exposed to temptation. 
Food, good clothes, and a bed are here found 
me, without any care or concern of my own, 
only to conform to the rules of the prison, while 
the strict silence enjoined among the prisoners 
keeps me from hearing anything sinful. I could 
wish to abide here forever, out of the way of 
temptation, care, and strife ; but the time will 
soon come when I shall again be tossed on the 
billows. During the whole of the month I was 
there, the turnkeys found no fault with me ; 
and, as the time drew near that I should be 
discharged, I was sore afraid lest my religion 
should not stand the test of trials, but in the 
hour of temptation fall away. I had also some 
fears how I should subsist, as I had in my heart 
renounced all sin (the sin of lying among the 
rest), and as I had not been brought up to any 
trade, nor accustomed to any kind of labor, and 
my strength undermined by my evil habits, I 



CAMPAIGN OF LOVE 



By Rev. Lawrence Browning, c.p. 

My dear Reader, 

I am sure that you desire to love Jesus 
very much. Perhaps you desire to be an 
apostle and inspire others to love Him, but 
feel that there is nothing you can do. I am 
going to tell you how you can help many per- 
sons to love our Lord. 

For some time now I have been ponder- 
ing an idea which I must share with you. 
When Jesus walked the earth He was such a 
lovable Person that large crowds followed 
Him everywhere. He had attractive manly 
features, a refined human nature, sensitive 
emotions, a responsive human heart. He was 
a sympathetic, gentle, kind, understanding, 
forgiving Person. St. John wrote of Jesus as 
God in three words: "God is love." We can 
say of Him as Man: "Jesus is lovable." And 
when Jesus on the cross spoke the words: 
"I thirst," He revealed the desire of His Sa- 
cred Heart to be loved by you and me, and 
by every person in the world. 

Jesus has given us so many wonderful 
things: our existence, the Catholic faith, 
grace, the Church, the holy Sacrifice of the 
Mass, Holy Communion, the Sacrament of 
Confession. And He gave His life, even the 
very last drop of His Precious Blood, for 
love of us. 



After pondering these thoughts seriously, 
I determined to form a Campaign of Love 
for Jesus, composed of people like you. 
But I cannot do it alone, I need the help of 
good persons like you, and I am asking you 
to help me. Would you like to join us, and 
help us to encourage others to love Him? I 
am sure you would. All that is required is a 
deep personal love for Jesus, and the desire 
to inspire others to love Him. Jesus needs 
you in this Campaign of Love. 

All you have to do is this: make a spe- 
cial effort to think of Jesus often each day, 
and each time you think of Him, whisper 
several times: "Jesus, I love You." Continue 
doing this every day for the rest of your life. 
Then, our Lord wants you to tell your 
friends about this prayer, and ask them to 
join our crusade. Ask them to make special 
efforts to think of Him often each day, as 
they work, shop, clean, drive the car, walk, 
rest; and every time they think of Him, re- 
peat several times from their hearts: "Jesus, 
I love You." Be sure you ask each person 
you contact to request others to do the same. 
Each new person who joins us should enlist 
his or her friends, on and on and on. 

If we ask people to do this, and if they in 
turn persuade others, and these in turn en- 
list others, just think what will happen! Be- 
ginning as a small group, the number will 
grow into hundreds, then into thousands. 
The work we begin during our lives will be 
taken up and carried on by new members. 



and will continue to spread after our death, 
until from a vast number of hearts all around 
the globe the words: "Jesus, I love You" 
will echo millions of times each day; from 
the fields, villages and small towns, large 
cities, and ocean islands. At first thought 
this seems like a wild dream. But if we 
really love Jesus, and if we work hard 
enough, one day, perhaps long after our 
death, this dream, with the help of His 
grace, will become a reality! 

It will help us to live intimately with 
Jesus if we remember that, as God, the 
Person of Jesus is always with us. He is 
around us and in us, living in our hearts 
and our souls. The Person of Jesus is the 
life of our life, the soul of our soul. He is 
closer to us than we are to ourselves. If we 
think of Him in this way, as a real Person 
who is intimately present to us, and who 
loves us in a very personal way, then our 
conversation with Him will be very easy. 

At times perhaps Jesus will give us the 
grace to pray more simply, to reduce words 
to a minimum: "I love You." Or even more 
simply, to whisper the Holy Name: Jesus, 
lovingly and prayerfully. Or if He gives us 
the grace of even simpler prayer, we may 
pray without using words at all. We simply 
think of Jesus and love Him from our hearts, 
without expressing our love in words; as a 
mother gazes lovingly at her baby, as she 
clasps him to her heart. Her heart is over- 
flowing with love, but her lips do not speak 



words. We may love Jesus in the same 
manner, prolonging this sentiment of love 
for seconds, minutes, even for hours. 

At times telling Jesus we love Him will 
be very difficult. We may go for long 
periods of time and not think of Him. We 
may not "feel" His presence, and it may 
seem that He has abandoned us. "Jesus, I 
love You" will seem like empty words 
spoken into a hollow cave. We will be dis- 
tracted, and our mind flighty. Talking to 
our Lord will seem useless, and we will feel 
like giving up, because there are no tangible 
results. But at these times Jesus is testing 
our faith and perseverance; He wants us to 
love Him in pure faith, with no satisfaction 
for ourselves. It is at these times of diffi- 
culty and seeming uselessness that our 
prayer is most pleasing to Him. 

Won't you please join us, because Jesus 
needs you, and help spread the love of Him 
to other souls? so that one day He will have 
the pleasure of hearing the words: "Jesus 
I love You" pulsating in human hearts all 
around the world. 

I would suggest that you obtain copies of 
this leaflet from the Benedictine Convent, 
Clyde, MO 64432, and give and mail them to 
friends. Put them in church and hospital 
pamphlet racks, leave them in doctors' wait- 
ing rooms, in railroad and bus stations, on 
trains and buses; any place where people 
will find and read them. Give them es- 
pecially to people who have many and far- 



reaching contacts. They could be given to 
hospital patients. The Legion of Mary and 
other organizations could distribute them. 

I have contacted many persons about this, 
and the response has been most gratifying. 
Thanks to the eiforts of zealous persons, the 
idea has gone to many States in our own 
nation, and even to foreign countries: Africa, 
England, Ireland, Germany, Canada, the 
Philippine Islands, Australia, and Japan. 
People have distributed the leaflet by per- 
sonal contacts, by letter, through church and 
hospital pamphlet racks. The Knights of 
Columbus, the Legion of Mary and other 
organizations have helped in its distribution. 
Teachers read it to their pupils, and give it 
to children to take home to their parents. 
Officers read it to parish organizations. Some 
persons send it to friends in foreign coun- 
tries. We never know what will happen 
when we give or mail this leaflet to one per- 
son; it may end up in far and scattered 
corners of the globe. 

Our motto shall be: "The only thing that 
really matters is that all hearts be on fire 
with love of Jesus!" 

Jesus will never give us the pleasure of 
knowing the far-reaching success of our ef- 
forts. Our only joy will be the happiness 
of loving Jesus ourselves, and knowing that 
through our efforts, helped by His grace. His 
love reigns in many hearts throughout the 
world. 

After spending our lives loving Jesus, 






and inspiring others to love Him, we will 
close our eyes, fall into unconsciousness, and 
our souls will leave our bodies. Suddenly 
we will awaken! Everything will seem so 
strange and different! We have never ex- 
perienced such a strange awakening before. 
We are bathed in blinding light, and our 
hearts are on fire with love. We are in the 
arms of Jesus! He was with us and we with 
Him all the time we were on earth. He was 
as close to us then as He is now. But then 
we had to be content to love Him in faith. 
He has reserved the vision of Himself until 
now. We are beginning an eternity of hap- 
piness with Him. As He presses us to His 
Sacred Heart He is smiling at us and saying: 
"Thanks very much for the hundreds of 
thousands of times you said, as you walked 
the earth: *Jesus, I love You,' and for the 
many times you unknowingly enkindled in 
the hearts of others the fire of My love." 

I wish to thank you very much, and may 

Jesus reward you for your zealous efforts. 

Rev. Lawrence Browning, c.p. 

Imprimi Potest: Very Rev. James Patrick WMte, c.p. 

Provincial 

Imprimatur: Joseph V. Sullivan, 

Auxiliary Bishop of Kansas City-St. Joseph 

October 6, 1967 

M76 Price, 1^ each, plus postage 

Order from: 

Benedictine Convent of Perpetual Adoration 
Clyde, Missouri 64432 



HOPE IN GOD. 81 

saw no remedy but that I must again beg my 
bread, until God in his providence should be 
pleased to open a way for me to obtain the ne- 
cessaries of life by honest industry. I said to 
myself, if I tell the truth I shall not be likely 
to excite compassion ; I shall neither obtain 
food nor lodgings; but I am determined, in 
God's grace, should I be ever so pinched with 
hunger, not to obtain relief by lying, which is 
a sin against heaven. But why should I har- 
bor these fears and cares ? Dost thou not know, 
Josiah, that when thou art living in the fear of 
God, thou art an object of his special care ? All 
creatures wait upon God, and he giveth them 
their food in due season. Not a sparrow falls 
to the ground without the notice of your heav- 
enly father. 'Tis God who gives the wise men 
their wisdom, the strong men their strength, 
and rich men their riches. The same infinite 
wisdom and power that called into existence, 
and still upholds the universe, is there to de- 
fend thee, and provide for thy daily bread. 
When thou wert living in sin, God supplied 
thy needs, and will he not supply them when 
thou livest in his fear ? The hearts of all men 
are in the hands of God. He can dispose them 
to administer to thy wants. 

The morning that I was set at liberty I rose 



82 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

earlier than nsual, and spent some time in earn- 
est prayer to God for his protection. I be- 
sought Him rather to take away my life than 
to suffer me again to return to the paths of sin. 
After reading a portion of God's word, I went 
to my usual work till breakfast, and being lib- 
erated from prison, I proceeded to Market 
Weighton. I called at several farm-houses on 
the road, but met with a poor reception on ac- 
count of my poor simple tale. It being Satur- 
day, I stayed at Weighton, till Monday. Hav- 
ing no shoes, nor shirt, and the clothes on my 
back all falling to pieces, I did not go to a place 
of worship. I lodged with a quiet and retired 
family. There were no travellers at the house, 
and the Sabbath was spent in secret prayer, 
and reading the Scriptures and some good 
books, the mistress of the house lent me. My 
old besetting sin seemed as if it were slain. 

The next day I proceeded to Selby. I found 
it a difficult matter to keep from lying. When 
going along the road in the morning I would 
offer up a secret prayer to God for his protec- 
tion to my soul against those temptations to 
which I was exposed. At night I examined 
myself and found, that though I had not yield- 
ed to temptation in telling lies, jet I had sin- 
ned against God by putting on pitiful looks, 



A SECRET DISCIPLE. 83 

when I did not feel distress. Of this I heartily 
repented before God, resolving in God's grace 
to renounce that also. 

For several days I met with nothing but dis- 
couragement, but my mind was supported by 
faith in God's providence. 

I came to Pontefract. The people of Ponte- 
fract and its neighborhood were very kind to 
me, so that I obtained more by telling the truth 
than I had formerly done by telling lies. I 
spent my next Sunday in this ancient town. It 
was not so comfortable as the Sunday before. A 
number of travellers were there, who spent the 
day in wicked conversation, which now was 
grievous to my soul. I also had great longings 
in my spirit to go to the house of the Lord. 
"As the hart panteth for the water-brooks, so 
panteth my soul after thee, O God." " "When 
shall I come and appear before God?" I had 
not as yet learnt to confess Christ before men. 
I strove to conceal religion within my own 
breast from the notice of others. Yet I could 
not keep it altogether secret. My care over 
my words in refraining from lying in common 
conversation, and the dislike I showed to all 
sinful discourse, told me that a great change 
had taken place in my soul. 

From Selby I went to Leeds. I came near 



84: LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

to some men that were sitting outside of a pub- 
lic-house. They asked me my trade. I said, 
^^ I am no trade, and have been brought up to 
no occupation. I lived in a workhouse till I 
was seventeen years of age, when I ran away, 
and have been travelling ever since." They 
laughed at me, saying, '^ You tell a very lame 
story ; you must tell a better tale than that if 
you want to get anything." Others said, *'I 
will give you something, for you tell the truth." 
I stayed three weeks at Leeds, during which 
time I bought a new shirt and a new pair of 
trousers. 

I next went to Bradford, stayed a month, 
and then proceeded to Halifax. A person gave 
me a coat and waistcoat. The next Sunday, I 
went to chapel, being the first time since I left 
Beverley. I was glad to go to the house of 
God. The minister preached a funeral sermon 
on the death of the Eev. Dr. M'AU, of Man- 
chester. Before sermon they sang a hymn of 
praise. 

God moves in a mysterious way 

His wonders to perform, 
He plants his footsteps in the sea, 

And rides upon the storm. 

The preacher took his text from the 12th 
chapter of Hebrews, the latter clause of the 



INWARD WITNESS. 85 

23d verse, *' The spirits of just men made per- 
fect." He dwelt in glowing terms on the per- 
fection of joy, of love, of knowledge, and of 
glory to which the souls of believers attain in 
heaven. My mind was sweetly refreshed un- 
der this sermon. It was the very gate of 
heaven to my soul. 

From Halifax I went to Huddersfield, and 
from that place to Oldham. It was Oldham 
wakes. The people of the town were making 
merry. While I was getting my tea it thun- 
dered and lightened in an awfiil manner. The 
women fell down on their knees, crying to God 
for mercy, while I sat unmoved amidst the 
troubled scene. 

I stayed the next week at Eochdale. I went 
to chapel, but did not approve of the sermon, 
it not agreeing with the Scriptures, so I heard 
another preacher in the evening. There was a 
man in the same house with me, who had im- 
bibed the principles of Socialism, which at that 
time, through Socialist lecturers, were spread- 
ing through the manufacturing districts. This 
man endeavored to make me believe that the 
Bible was false, and tried to persuade me to 
leave off going to chapel. I told him that I 
was not scholar sufficient to argue with him on 
science, yet I knew by my own experience that 



86 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

religion was true, and that he might as well 
try to persuade me that what I eat was not 
food, as that what I read in the word of God 
was not the truth. ^^ Give up my religion," 
I said. '^0 no ! 'Tis religion that supports my 
mind and ennobles my soul ; I will part with 
health, with liberty, with life, rather than with 
my religion !" 

Blackburn was my next resting-place. There 
I heard a sermon that has been greatly blessed 
to me, from these words : — ** Labor not for the 
meat which perisheth, but for that meat which 
endureth unto everlasting life, which the Son 
of man shall give unto you ; for Him hath God 
the Father sealed." 

The minister described what our Saviour 
meant when He said, "Labor not for the meat 
that perisheth." Our Lord did not mean to 
prohibit labor, for it is not only lawful but 
commendable. When God gave the ten com- 
mandments. He said, " Six days shalt thou la- 
bor, and do all thy work." And Solomon re- 
proved the sluggard, saying, " Go to the ant, 
thou sluggard ; consider her ways and be wise : 
which having no guide, overseer, or ruler, pro- 
videth her meat in the summer, and gathereth 
her food in the harvest." But our blessed Lord 
here forbids an over-anxious and exclusive 



LAW OF KINDNESS. 87 

care about the things of this life, seeing all 
things in this world must perish in the using. 
Even our bodies, however much care we take 
of them, must become corrupt and moulder 
into dust. That we should suffer, therefore, 
all our thoughts and care to be taken up, and 
all our mind to be consumed about earthly 
things, to the neglect of our soul's salvation, 
was the greatest folly. The soul'is of such im- 
portance that it demanded our chief concern, 
and our most anxious care and diligence to se- 
cure its welfare. And as our bodies could not 
subsist without food, so neither could our souls 
enjoy spiritual life but by Jesus Christ and by 
faith in his atoning sacrifice. 

I walked on next day to Preston. While 
calling at some houses at a small town near 
Preston, a female came to the door, and began 
to talk to me about my soul. When she found 
by my answers I had already fled to Christ for 
refuge, she poured into my ear the consolations 
of the Gospel. This was the first time I had 
received a word of comfort from any of Christ's 
disciples. how sweet were her words to my 
discouraged soul. The law of kindness was 
on her lips, and benevolence beamed from her 
eyes. After talking with me some time, and 
giving me a penny, and a thick piece of bread 



88 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

and butter (for she was only a poor woman), 
she shook hands heartily with me, saying, 
" Farewell ! if we never meet again on earth, 
I trust we shall meet in heaven." I left her, 
but her words were long a source of consola- 
tion to me."^ 

From Preston I went to Chorley. As I 
drew near to the town a man overtook me, and 
began to ask me a number of questions, to all 



* The reader must have noticed, with interest, the instances 
of female kindness mentioned in this narrative. The expe- 
rience of Mungo Park prompted him to bear similar testi- 
mony. He says in his travels : — " It is impossible for me to 
forget the disinterested charity and tender solicitude with 
which many of these poor heathens (from the sovereign of 
Sego to the poor women who received me at different times 
into their cottages, when I was perishing of hunger) sym- 
pathized with me in my sufferings, relieved my distress- 
es, and contributed to my safety. This acknowledgment, 
however, is perhaps more particularly due to the female part 
of the nation. Among the men my reception, though gener- 
ally kind, was sometimes otherwise. It varied according to 
the various tempers of those to whom I made application. 
The hardness of avarice in some, and the blindness of bigotry 
in others, had closed up the avenues to compassion ; but I 
don't recollect a single instance of hard-heartedness towards 
me in the women. In all my wanderings and wretchedness I 
found them uniformly kind and compassionate : and I can 
only say, as my predecessor, Mr. Ledyard, has eloquently 
said before me, 'To a woman I never addressed myself in the 
language of decency and friendship, without receiving a de- 
cent and friendly answer. If I was hungry or thirsty, wet or 
sick, they did not hesitate, like the men, to perform a gener- 
ous action. In so free and so kind a manner did they con- 
tribute to my relief, that if I was dry I drank the sweetest 
draught, and if hungry I eat the coarsest morsel with a double 
relish.' " 



LIVERPOOL. 89 

of whicli I answered according to truth. He 
told me he was a reed-maker, living in the 
town, and if I called at his house on Monday 
he would find me work. I had been praying 
a long time that God would open a way where- 
by I might obtain the necessaries of life by 
honest industry, and thought my prayers were 
now about to be answered. The next day, be- 
ing Sunday, I went to church. One of my 
shoes was so bad that the sole needed to be tied 
to the upper leather. The minister's text was, 
*^Thou shalt love the Lord thy Grod with all 
thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all 
thy strength, and with all thy mind ; and thy 
neighbor as thyself." On Monday I called on 
the reed-maker, but I found he did not want 
me. 

The month following I spent at Liverpool. 
The people here were very kind to me. I 
lodged with some Irish Catholics ; had some 
thoughts of turning Catholic, and read Catholic 
books on controversy and devotion ; but, 
though many prejudices I had previously en- 
tertained against the Catholics I found to be 
groundless, yet I could not bring my mind to 
believe in transubstantiation, which they so 
strenuously uphold. Though the people that 
I lodged with were Catholics, they had in their 



90 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

house an English Bible, which I diligently 
read, praying secretly to God to grant me grace 
to know and do his will. This I found to be 
of great profit as well as comfort. 

I determined now on coming to London, and 
to settle and betake myself to some humble 
calling for a livelihood. I longed for an op- 
portunity of leaving off my wandering life, and 
resolved to take the first opportunity of doing 
so. It grieved me to think that I was in the 
prime of life, a burden on society, and in my 
morning and evening prayers I besought God, 
if in accordance with his holy will, to make a 
way for me in his providence, to get an honest 
and industrious living, and that I might com- 
memorate my Saviour's dying love with his 
people, and enjoy the sweets of Christian friend- 
ship. 

Leaving Liverpool, I came to Frogmore, a 
small town in Cheshire. I lodged a mile from 
the town, and on Sunday I walked to church, 
a mile and a half, along a pleasant green lane. 
My mind was occupied in calm and delightful 
meditations, and in sweet communion with God. 
I enjoyed a happy freedom from all worldly 
care, and could enter upon the duties of public 
worship with fervor, awe, and delight. After 
the morning service was ended, I returned to 



A PLEASANT SABBATH. 91 

my lodgings, pondering what I had heard. 
After partaking my frugal meal with a heart 
full of peace, content, and cheerfulness, I re- 
turned to church in the afternoon. The minis- 
ter preached from these words : — '^ I will that 
men pray everywhere, lifting up holy hands." 
He began on the times and manner of secret, 
social, and public prayer. There was a great 
earnestness about his address. I felt his ser- 
mon to be profitable to me. Altogether this 
was the happiest day I had hitherto spent. 

How sweet a Sabbath thus to spend, 
In hopes of one that ne'er shall end. 

From Frogmore I went to Nantwich. I at- 
tended chapel, and spent a comfortable Sunday 
there ; but my soul was robbed of the profits 
through listening to a number of countrymen, 
who had assembled in the house where I lodg- 
ed, talking about poaching. 

From Nantwich I went to Newcastle, where 
I stayed for a few days. On Sunday I enjoyed 
a sweet day of spiritual instruction and delight. 
In the morning the minister showed by many 
arguments the reasonableness of the Gospel. 
In the afternoon I heard a sermon from the 
43d of Isaiah, 1st and 2d verses. " Thus saith 
the Lord that created thee, Jacob, and he 



92 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

that formed thee, Israel, Fear not, for I have 
redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name ; 
thou art secure. When thou passest through 
the waters, I will be with thee ; and through 
the rivers, they shall not overflow thee. When 
thou walkest through the fire thou shalt not 
be burnt, neither shall the flames kindle upon 
thee." 

The sincere disciples of Jesus Christ are, 
while in this world, exposed to sufferings and 
distress. Their being the people of God does 
not exempt them from the common calamities 
of life. God does not give his people reason 
to expect that they shall not suffer or be tried. 
On the contrary, he tells them they are to pass 
through trials and afflictions of various kinds. 
*^ I will leave in thee an afflicted and poor peo- 
ple, and they shall trust in me, saith the Lord." 
*^ I will bring a third part through the fire, and 
will try them as silver is tried." Besides the 
common afflictions of life, the Christian has 
troubles peculiar to himself. Fears within and 
fightings without. Sometimes, when emerging 
from the deep waters of one kind of affliction, 
and promising himself ease, he is called to pass 
through trials of a nature completely opposite. 
It is said of Joseph that until deliverance came, 
the word of the Lord tried him. David says, 



USE OF TRIAL. 93 

" Thou hast tried me as silver is tried. All thy 
waves and thy billows are gone over me. Lord, 
how are they increased that trouble me. Many 
there be that rise up against me. Many there 
be that say of my soul, there is no help for him 
in God. I found trouble and sorrow. Lover 
and friend hast thou put far from me — and 
mine acquaintance into darkness." Jeremiah 
says, ^^Eemembering my afflictions and my 
misery, the wormwood and the gall, my soul 
hath them still in remembrance and is humbled 
in me.'' Our blessed Lord said to his disciples, 
^^ In the world ye shall have tribulation, but in 
me ye shall have peace. Through much trib- 
ulation ye shall enter the kingdom. Those 
that are before the throne came there through 
much tribulation." God's people are not, nei- 
ther ought they to be, insensible to the strokes 
of divine chastisement. ^' My son, despise not 
thou the chastening of the Lord, nor faint when 
thou art rebuked of him.'' It is intended that 
we should feel our afflictions acutely, and that 
we should earnestly desire and seek deliver- 
ance from them. Our blessed Lord felt deeply 
the sufferings he endured, when in an agony he 
sweat great drops of blood, falling to the ground 
and praying, '^ my Father, if it be possible, 
let this cup pass from me : nevertheless, not as 



94 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

I will, but as thou wilt." God often touches 
his people in the most tender part ; they are 
ready to say, if it were anything else I could 
have borne it ; but the Father of Spirits de- 
signs their profit, though He causes them to 
smart under the rod. It is that they may be- 
come partakers of his holiness. " No chasten- 
ing for the present seemeth to be joyous, but 
grievous ; nevertheless it yieldeth the peacea- 
ble fruit of righteousness unto them which are 
exercised thereby." In the midst of these tri- 
als, God calls upon his people saying, " Fear 
not." Fear not their number, fear not their 
greatness, fear not their end. Why ? Because 
thou art mine. I formed thee. I know thy 
frame. I know all that in body and in mind 
thou art capable of enduring. I will not suf- 
fer thee to be tempted above what thou art 
able ; but with every temptation will make a 
way of escape, that thou mayest be able to bear 
it. Thou art mme, for I formed thee anew by 
my spirit, and made thee a new creature in 
Christ Jesus, and changed entirely the bent of 
thy will and of thy affections. "I have re- 
deemed thee, not with corruptible things, such 
as silver and gold, but with the precious blood 
of Christ." I will therefore take care and pre- 
pare thee for heaven, the place where my jewels 



SPIRITUAL RUMINATION. 95 

are kept forever. When thy correction is ov^>- 
thoa shalt have to say, it is good for me that I 
have been afflicted. Let then thy affliction en- 
dear to thee the throne of grace. When thou 
art humbled under my chastening rod and thou 
canst find neither rest nor comfort in earthly 
things, seek thy rest and peace in me. I will 
condescend to commune with thee, and thou 
shalt find that I can satisfy all the desires of 
the soul, and when thy trials have answered 
the purpose for which I sent them, I will bring 
thee safely through them. These are the con- 
solations of the people of God. But those who 
neither love nor serve Him, can have no such 
support when trouble comes upon them. ^' My 
dear young friends," said the preacher, '^jon 
may be looking forward to many years of 
pleasure and enjoyment, but you little know 
how soon adversity may overtake you. Con- 
sider the days of darkness, for they are many, 
and seek now to be reconciled to God, that in 
the time of trouble you may find in Him an 
all-sufficient and ever-present friend." 

In the evening, I heard a sermon from these 
words : — " If any man sin, we have an advo- 
cate with the Father, Jesus Christ the right- 
eous : and he is the propitiation for our sins : 
and not for ours only ; but also for the sins of 



96 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

the whole world." The minister dwelt sweetly 
upon the prevailing intercession of Jesus Christ. 
These three sermons served me to meditate 
upon three different mornings. 1 now began 
every evening to examine myself at the close 
of each day, scrutinizing my thoughts, words, 
and actions, and praying to God to assist me by 
His holy Spirit to make me acquainted with the 
plague of my own heart. I discovered many 
faults in my temper, walk, and conversation. 
Much of the old man I saw yet remained to be 
crucified, and felt more than ever the necessity 
of coming again and again to the fountain of 
my Eedeemer's blood, and of seeking constant- 
ly the influences of the Holy Spirit to enlight- 
en and to purify my soul. 

From Newcastle I went to Wolverhampton. 
On Sunday I attended chapel, and heard a ser- 
mon on the example of Christ, which I hope 
will never be forgotten by me. It has ever 
since had a great influence upon my experience 
in the divine life. The text was 1 Pet. ii. 21. 

^^God," the preacher said, ^^has not only 
given us moral precepts for the guidance of 
our conduct, but these precepts are illustrated 
by many examples given in His word, in the 
lives of the saints. One is a pattern of faith, 
another of patience, a third of humility, &c. ; 



GREAT EXEMPLAR. 97 

but in all of them sin and infirmity mingled 
with their virtues. In the life of Christ we 
have, however, a bright display of the beauty 
of holiness. He knew no sin. He has left us 
a perfect example that we can trace in the Gos- 
pel, and it is one that His people can all imitate. 
K we were called to trace the footsteps of the 
uncreated Deity, we could not in all things 
know how to follow Him. The ways of God 
are past finding out. His footsteps are in the 
sea, and his paths are not known. But in the 
person of our Lord Jesus Christ the Godhead 
is united to the human nature, and His excel- 
lence is exhibited to us in a form that we can 
understand and copy. Before I proceed 
further, I must, however, caution my hearers 
against error in thinking that this was the 
only purpose for which Christ came. The 
chief errand of the Lord Jesus was to save 
poor guilty sinners from everlagtiGg misery, 
and to raise them tq holiness, happiness, and 
glory In heaven, It w^s part of His design 
to purify unto liiwself a peculiar people, 
zealous of goad works, 

"But who can come up to the high 
standard of perfection? How can a poor 
weak worm of the dust ever expect to attaiu 
to such purity and loveliness of character ? 

9 



98 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

Though no mere man ever did approach to 
the sinless perfection of Christ in thought, 
motive, and conduct, yet the weakest believer 
is not to be held back from its imitation. A 
Christian is one who is like Christ, for he is 
the only proper standard of Christianity. 
The followers of Jesus should not compare 
themselves with themselves, but with their 
great Exemplar. Every action of the Ke- 
deemer flowed from a pure principle within. 
Love to God and man filled his soul. He 
sought not his own glory, but the glory of 
the Father, and the good of mankind. How 
many actions amongst men that have gained 
the doers of them fame, have sprung from sel- 
fish and unworthy motives. Even good men 
act from motives that are mixed and very im- 
perfect. Let this mind be in you, which was 
also in Christ Jesus : who being in the form of 
God, thought it not robbery to be equal with 
God ; but made himself of no reputation, and 
took upon him the form of a servant, and was 
made in the likeness of men ; and being found 
in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and 
became obedient unto death, even the death 
of the cross." 

The minister showed that Christ was a pat- 
tern of humility, self-denying benevolence, sub- 



SCENE IN A BEER-HOUSE. 99 

mission to authority, fervent prayer, delight in 
public worship, holy zeal, love to the brethren, 
profitable converse, gentle compassion, patience, 
forbearance, and forgiveness. I wrote out 
the sermon at length, and would put it down 
here, but for the pages it would fill. Ever 
since I have been praying, longing, and striv- 
ing, in dependence upon the aid of the Holy 
Spirit, to be like my blessed Lord, and look 
forward to that glorious day when I shall be 
completely changed into his image. 

Be Christ my pattern and my guide, 

His image let me bear ; 
O may I tread His sacred steps, 

And His bright glory share. 

About this time I was put to a severe trial. 
After being out all day, begging from door 
to door, and not being able to obtain more than 
one halfpenny, which together with twopence 
halfpenny I had before, made threepence (ex- 
actly what I wanted to pay for my lodging and 
a few pieces of bread,) a collier took hold of 
me by my arm, and said, '^ Come along with 
me, and I'll gather you some halfpence." He 
took me into a beer-shop, but instead of col- 
lecting money, as he told me he would, he bit 
a hole through my trousers and pocket, and 



100 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

let my few halfpence tumble on the floor, and 
kept one of them from me. I mildly reasoned 
with him to give it up, but in vain. The land- 
lady joined him in abusing me, and they took 
hold of me, one by my head and the other by 
the legs, and threw me into the street upon the 
stones. I got up and said, *^ May God forgive 
you for what you have done, as I do." I heard 
a sermon while in Wolverhampton, on Christ's 
second coming to judgment, which made a deep 
impression on my mind. While going from 
door to door begging, I went into a beer-shop, 
where a number of colliers sat drinking. I 
asked them to help me, when one rose, and 
making me sit down between two of them, 
asked me to sing a song. I declined and got 
lip to go out, but they refused to let me go un- 
til I had sung. To satisfy them I gave them 
an innocent song. Every now and then they 
would give a glass of ale to drink. I made 
several attempts to get out but could not. 
They told me I should stay and drink as long 
as they did. They evidently intended to make 
me drunk, and play tricks with me ; for they 
would give me the glass twice to their once. 
Being afraid of sinning against God by intem- 
perance, I refused to take any more. One of 
them said to another, '* You hold his head back 



CAST DOWN. 101 

while I pour it down his throat. '' They tried 
to do this, but I kept my teeth so closed that 
though they opened my lips with the edge of 
the glass, yet none of the ale went down my 
throat, but fell on my breast, wetting my shirt 
and waistcoat. This they did repeatedly, until 
the landlady calling one of the men away to 
do something, beckoned me to the door, so I 
got clear, thankful to God for my escape. On 
my way to Birmingham I stopped a night at 
West Bromwich, and endeavored to speak to 
some of the lodgers on the importance of reli- 
gion to poor travellers, who having no home or 
inheritance in this life, should seek one in heav- 
en. They admitted the truth of what I told 
them, saying, '^ How few travellers think on 
these things ! ^' At Birmingham I stayed a 
fortnight, and felt much discouraged in my 
mind. Everything seemed to wear a gloomy 
aspect toward me. I thought, should I be this 
way if I were a child of God ? Has God forgot- 
ten to be gracious ? Will he no more be en- 
treated ? I am a poor wandering outcast, a 
useless load upon society. I can find no com- 
fort or enjoyment in the things of this world, 
and I am excluded from the society of God's 
people. Everybody seems to frown upon and 
despise me, and well they might, if they knew 

9* 



102 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

me as well as God knows me. But why do I 
thus murmur and complain ? Ought I not to 
be thankful that I am out of hell? Has not 
God brought thee, Josiah, to repentance and to 
obtain mercy though Jesus Christ ? While in 
Beverley gaol did not He give thee a sweet 
sense of his pardoning love? Has He not 
brought thee through many trials and tempta- 
tions ? Has not Christ said, ^' Him that com- 
eth unto me, I will in no wise cast out?'' 
Though an outcast from the world and the 
people of God, thou art not an outcast from 
Jesus Christ. Though Abraham be ignorant 
of thee, and Israel acknowledge thee not, 
doubtless God is thy father. ^^ Why art thou 
so cast down, O my soul, and why art thou 
disquieted within me? Hope thou in God. 
He is the health of thy countenance and thy 
God." Thus my soul was the seat of an in- 
ward struggle between faith and unbelief, till 
faith obtained the victory. 

In my journey southward, I went through 
Coventry to Leicester. Having but one shirt, 
I pulled it off and gave it to the woman at the 
lodgings to wash for me. As I had no money, 
I went out into the streets and began begging. 
A policeman brought me before the mayor, and 
I told him I had been three times in gaol al- 



COMFORTLESS DAY. • 103 

ready. The mayor said, ^^ Will you leave 
the town if I let you go?'' I said, *'I cannot 
go to-day, for I have left my shirt at my lodg- 
ings to be washed, and it will be wet." The 
mayor replied, ^' You people tell so many plau- 
sible tales, I don't know how to believe you ;" 
*^ but," he said to the policeman, '' go with him 
to his lodgings, and get his shirt for him, but 
if he has told falsehoods, bring him back, and 
I will commit him a month to gaol." The 
policeman went with me to my lodgings, and, 
as the woman had not begun to wash, I got my 
shirt, and the policeman told another to con- 
vey me out of the town, which he did, on the 
road to Market Harborough. After going a 
little way, it began to snow, and it being now 
three o'clock, and fifteen miles to Market Har- 
borough, and not having any money, I turned 
ofi* the road to a village and stood for some time 
at the front of a gentleman's house. The foot- 
man came out to me with threepence, and hav- 
ing obtained some food, I determined on going 
back to Leicester to lodge — ^I did so, and the 
next morning left the town for Lutterworth. 
When near the end of the town and passing 
by the gaol, whom should I see but the police- 
man. He halloaed to me to stop. "I thought," 
said he, " you were going to Market Harbor- 



104 ♦life of a vagrant. 

ougTi. I suppose you know where you are to 
go now?" I said, ** Yes, I have a guess." He 
laughed and said, '* You are not worth taking 
back or else — " I reached Lutterworth that 
night, and the next morning washed my shirt 
and left it to dry while I went out to beg. The 
people were very kind to me, as they were at 
Northampton, where I went for a few days. I 
enjoyed for the most part peace of mind at this 
time. At Bedford also I was treated with 
much kindness. I came to Hertford at night, 
but could not find lodgings, so had to walk 
nine miles further to Hitchin. Being rather 
lame, I could not travel very fast, but my mind 
was led out in sweet meditations. I tried to 
obtain lodgings at Hitchin, at various public- 
houses, but was refused by them all. On reach- 
ing the outside of the town, I turned into a 
cart-shed and lay down to sleep; the night 
was very cold and frosty, and I shivered from 
head to foot, but I committed myself to the 
watchful care of God, yielding submission to 
his heavenly will. I was roused in the night 
by a publican who came to search the premises 
with his dog : after explaining matters, he took 
me into his house and said he had been waiting 
for two of his lodgers coming home, who had 
not come, or he would have been in bed long 



BALANCE-SHEET. 105 

before, and that if I had fourpence he would let 
me have a good bed. I gladly accepted his 
offer, and after taking s||fne refreshment, I lay 
down with feelings of thankfulness to my heav- 
enly Father for his providential care. From 
Hitchin, I came to London, and found myself 
in the place where I was born, without a friend 
or home, the companions of my childhood were 
grown out of knowledge. 

While I walked along, I drew up in my mind 
a summary of the evil and the good connected 
with my circumstances. Here I am a poor 
friendless, penniless outcast. All that were 
near and dear to me on earth are taken away 
from me by death. I have no friend to give 
me help, counsel, or comfort. I am obliged to 
beg from door to door, exposed to the frowns 
and sneers of the thoughtless and cruel, and 
obliged to dwell among them who neither fear 
nor love God, and often blaspheme his holy 
name. I have no Christian friend to whom I 
could unfold the secrets of my breast. I have 
no connection with the people of God. I am 
a poor weak feeble creature, exposed to many 
temptations. I have not a foot of land to call 
my own, nor any certain dwelling-place. I am 
tossed about upon the billows of uncertainty, 
not knowino^ when I eat one meal where the 



106 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

next is to come from. The clothes on my back 
are all in rags, and my shoes nearly off my feet. 
Such is the dark sid^ But, O my soul, now 
turn to the bright side, and survey the many 
mercies that encompass thee around, and see if 
they do not overbalance all the evil. Has God 
taken from me all my earthly friends? lie 
has more than made up the loss in Himself. 
He is my heavenly father. I am His adopted 
child. I can well endure the sneers and frowns 
of the thoughtless ; since my heavenly Father 
smiles upon me ; and though I have no earthly 
friend to whom I can unbosom my cares, yet 
in my Eedeemer, I have a friend that sticketh 
closer than a brother ; one who loveth at all 
times ; whose heart is full of love ; to whom I 
can have access at all times ; who laid down 
his life for my salvation ; who sought me when 
I was wandering astray, and led me to repent- 
ance, and who has given me the sweet assur- 
ance that my sins are forgiven. O this bless- 
ing — forgiveness! Is not this of itself suffi- 
cient to overbalance all my troubles ? Though 
I am very poor and despised in the eyes of the 
world, yet God is my father and portion. ^^ The 
earth is the Lord's, and the fulness thereof 
His providence will always provide for my 
bodily wants and His grace for my soul. Since 



PROSPECTS BECLOUDED. 107 

He is mine and I am His, what can 1 want be- 
side ? Here I have no estate, but I have treas- 
ure in heaven that will never fade away. The 
Holy Spirit is my instructor, comforter and 
gaide, and heaven is my final home. The Lord 
has blessed me with almost uninterrupted 
health. Every day He sends me sufficient food, 
and never suffers me to want a night's lodging. 
Thus, my soul, amidst povertj^ and trials, 
thou hast great reason to bless and praise thy 
God for His great mercies. 

Through all the changing scenes of life, 

In trouble and in joy, 
The praises of my God shall still 

My heart and tongue employ. 
Of his deliverance I will boast, 

Tell all that are distressed, 
From my example comfort take 

And soothe their griefs to rest. 

After some time, I obtained ten shilhngs 
from the parish, and bought with it some of 
the best black lead. My mind now wandered 
over future prospects of success in the world. 
I thought that by selling a good article, I 
should obtain a good connection, increase my 
stock, get a comfortable livelihood, secure many 
friends, join some Christian society, and never 
again wander. The things of earth so entwined 



108 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

themselves round my mind, that my devotions 
grew cold and formal. I had reason to com- 
plain with the Psalmist : '^ My soul cleaveth 
to the dust, quicken me according to thy word.'^ 
But all my fine prospects proved airy visions. 
I found very poor sale for my black lead, and 
so my stock dwindled away without any means 
of replenishing it. 

Again I began to beg for my bread, until I 
was taken up and sent to Tothill Fields Bride- 
well for fourteen days. While there I was 
treated with great severity, and part of my food 
was frequently stopped, because I was not able 
to fulfil my task. The prisoners were not al- 
lowed to speak or make signs to each other. 
The chaplain read prayers, and the morning 
lessons every day. I found great comfort from 
the Scriptures, but my mind was not yet 
brought to submission to the holy will of God ; 
neither was my faith sufficiently strong to rest 
upon his promises, that all things would work 
together for good. My mind was full of un- 
easiness at the thoughts of my circumstances ; 
yet it was my earnest prayer to God to grant 
me more patience and submission to his holy 
will, and that He would increase my faith. 
*^ Why art thou cast down, O my soul ? And 
why art thou disquieted within me? Hope 



ATTENDS CHURCH ON SUNDAYS. 109 

thou in God ; for I shall yet praise him, who 
is the health of my countenance, and my God." 
After my time was out I was compelled again 
to beg for my subsistence. I made many un- 
successful efforts to get employment. I waited 
many a cold morning at the dock gates, from 
eight o'clock in the morning till twelve, and 
at the wharves, often had the mortification to 
see every man taken on, and myself left be- 
hind, and then, when the day was half spent, 
had to beg for victuals, and money to pay my 
lodging. Sometimes I had to beg between the 
services on Sunday, which caused me much 
sorrow, until I was better known and obtained 
credit both from the landlady and the shop- 
keeper, so that I relinquished begging on Sun- 
days and went to St. George's church. I felt 
my mind lightened of its cares, my souj profited 
under the word, and I grew more reconciled 
to the will of God. My clothes were quite 
ragged, and often those who sat next me would 
shift away. The sexton told me to sit some- 
where out of the minister's sight. When the 
minister invited the people to the Lord's table, 
I felt a longing desire to commemorate my Sa- 
viour's love, but thought they would not re- 
ceive one so poor and unworthy. I lodged in 
Mint-street, at a house kept by Mr. Bryant. 
10 



110 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

In this lodging-house were fifty-two beds and 
from eighty to a hundred nightly lodgers. 
There was preaching every Sunday afternoon 
at three o'clock. Mrs. Bryant behaved to me 
with the greatest kindness, and lent me, "Dodd- 
ridge's Rise and Progress," "Luther on the 
Galatians," " The Christian on the Mount," and 
other good books to improve my mind. I spent 
my evenings in reading and meditation. I 
prayed to God with my head laying upon my 
pillow. As there were other lodgers in the 
same room, I was frequently annoyed by peo- 
ple, while at devotion, addressing themselves 
to me in conversation, and thinking that the 
fear of man had too great influence upon my 
mind in refraining from kneeling in prayer, I 
determined to bow my knees at my bedside in 
prayer, whether any person was there or not, 
and if anybody came in while at prayer, not to 
speak till I had offered all my petition to God. 
I often took a lonely walk before retiring to 
my bedroom, to review, as far as my memory 
would serve, the thoughts, words, and actions 
of the day, and the mercies I had received from 
God. After a few months, I was again con- 
fined for fourteen days, and afterwards for one 
month, during . which time my food was fre- 
quently stopped because I could not get 



GOLD IN THE FURNACE. Ill 

through the work. On the day before Christ- 
mas I was locked up on six ounces of bread 
and water. In the cell lay a Testament. I 
took it up, and read the first Epistle of Peter 
through, with prayer for the teaching of the 
Holy Spirit. The tenth verse of the fifth chap- 
ter was particularly applied to my mind. " But 
the God of all grace, who hath, called us unto 
his eternal glory by Christ Jesus, after that ye 
have suffered awhile, make you perfect, estab- 
lish, strengthen, settle you, to Him be glory 
and dominion forever and ever. Amen.'' 
These words gave me not only peace but heav- 
enly joy. I was enabled to look upon myself, 
though, a poor prisoner, as called by the grace 
of Grod unto eternal glory througti our Lord 
Jesus Christ, wlio looked upon me in my low 
and lost estate, passed over all my sins, had 
led, sustained, and comforted me by his holy 
Spirit, and though now called to suffer tribula- 
tion, yet (I said within myself) I shall come 
forth as gold. I believe in God. My soul rests 
upon his ^precious promises. He will make me 
perfect in patience, in submission to his heav- 
enly will, in faith, and hope, and love. The 
Lord will establish my soul firmly upon that 
rock, even Christ, against whom the rage and 
malice of hell will never prevail. The Lord 



112 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

will strengthen me by his Spirit's might in my 
soul, and give me grace to endure every trial, 
to resist all opposition, and triumph over every 
spiritual foe, and to enable me to advance in 
holiness, to bring forth the fruits of the spirit, 
to conform my soul to the image of his Son, 
and to prepare me for the enjoyment of His 
presence above. While I thus mused, I was 
filled with peace and joy in believing, — such 
peace and joy that no language can express, 
and none can fully conceive, but those who 
have felt the same. Though locked up in a 
solitary cell, I found I was not alone, for my 
Saviour was with me to spread before my soul 
a feast of love. 

Thy presence, dearest Lord, can cheer 
This dungeon where I dwell ! 
'Tis heaven to dwell in Thine embrace. 
If absent, then 'tis hell. 

My mind was calm and serene during the re- 
mainder of my time. After my liberation I 
obtained ten shillings from the parish officers, 
which I expended in needles, bodkins and cases. 
For some months I prospered in my calling 
and bought myself new shoes and clothes. 

Wherever I was on Saturday, that I might 
not be kept from the means of grace, I cooked 



UNION STREET CHAPEL. 113 

my Sunday dinner, and spent many very pleas- 
ant Sabbaths ; yet I wished for an opportunity 
of settling myself in one place, and of joining 
myself to the people of God. With this ob- 
ject in view, I disposed of my stock of 
needles, &c., and bought combs, spoons, laces, 
&c., and tried to establish myself at Stratford, 
but I did not succeed, so returned to London, 
and sold cotton and congreves. I was hired to 
stand one day at the Town-hall and shout for 
one of the candidates at an election. This gave 
me much pain as unbecoming a follower of 
Christ. About this time the Eev. John Arun- 
del came to preach at the lodging-house, and I 
afterwards attended his ministry at Union 
Street Chapel.* 

* Union Street Chapel stands in a quiet place, within a 
yard, through the first gateway in Union Street, about seven 
doors from High Street, Borough, south of London Bridge. 
The Church meeting there is the oldest Nonconformist Society 
known in England. It was formed 1616, by Henry Jacob, a 
friend of Mr. Robinson, the pastor of the Pilgrim Fathers. In 
1640 three or four peers went to their place of meeting, to 
hear them, and to observe their proceedings. A pamphlet, pub- 
lished in 1641, contains the following account : — " In that house, 
where they intend to meet, there is one appointed to keep the 
doore, for the intent to give notice if there should be any insur- 
rection, warning may be given them. They doe not flock to- 
gether, but come two or three in company ; any man may be 
admitted thither, and all being gathered together, the man ap- 
pointed to teach stands in the midst of the roome, and his au- 
dience gather about him. He prayeth about the space of half 
an houre ; and part of his prayer is, that those which came 
thither to scoff and laugh, God would be pleased to turn their 

10* 



114 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

Many of his sermons made a great impres- 
sion upon my mind. When I first went to the 
chapel, I sat on the stairs where I could hear 
without being seen. I was shown into a pew 
in the gallery. After this I rose every morn- 
ing early, and took a lonely walk for prayer. 
It was in one of these walks that I became ac- 
quainted with a sincere Christian friend, with 
whose conversation I have often been refreshed. 
O how sweet the converse of a spiritually mind- 
ed Christian. How it cheers and animates the 
pilgrim amidst the difficulties of the way. 

I obtained several jobs at carrying boards in 
the streets, but they only lasted a few days. One 
day, being out of work, I went to Marylebone, 
and was taken up for begging, and committed 
to Coldbath-fields prison for a month. I was 
much grieved in spirit, and shed tears, not so 

hearts. His sermon is about the space of an houre, and then 
doth another stand up to make the text more plaine ; and at 
the latter end he entreats them all to goe home severally, least 
the next meeting they should be interrupted by those which 
are of the opinion of the wicked. They seem very steadfast 
in their opinions, and say, rather than they will turne, they 
will burne." Dr. Pennington, an emancipated slave, for some 
time Congregational minister in Connecticut, visited the church 
on Sabbath day, April 8, 1850, to testify his regard for the 
memory of its founders, and his attachment to the principles 
for which they suffered reproach, exile, imprisonment, and 
death. In a few years the chapel at Union Street will pass out 
of the possession of the Chm'ch. It is proposed, by a general 
subscription, raised in England and America, to erect a new 
monumental chapel. 



GOOD OUT OF EVIL. 115 

much for the hardships I had to endure, as for 
suffering so repeatedly as an evil-doer ; but I was 
enabled to cast my burden upon God, and pray- 
ed earnestly that these things might be sanc- 
tified to my advancement in holiness. I was 
put to the tread-mill. During my resting time I 
read and pondered much of the Holy Scriptures. 
Some remarks of the chaplain came very for- 
cibly to my mind concerning the duty of Chris- 
tians to reverence the dying commands of their 
Lord and Saviour, " Do this in remembrance of 
me." I determined on partaking of the Lord^s 
Supper, and to join the society of the people 
of God, but, thought I, what body of believers 
will receive such a poor outcast as I am. Here 
also I learned to put my Saviour's gracious ex- 
hortation into practice : " Take no thought for 
to-morrow.'^ I divided my care into small par- 
cels ; the thought of how I should get through 
my month's imprisonment was not allowed to 
trouble me, but how shall I get through this 
morning or this afternoon. A short time after 
leaving prison, I took a broom and swept a 
crossing. At first I succeeded pretty well, be- 
ing thinly clothed, and the weather being cold. 
But as I had a policeman's great-coat lying by, 
I thought I should not be doing right if I went 
without my gTcat-coat to excite pity, so I put 



116 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

it on and wore it through the winter ; but I 
did not succeed so well as before. Some days 
I got only threepence. One morning, on awak- 
ing, I found my bedfellow was off, and had ta- 
ken my coat, hat, and handkerchief, so I was 
obliged to come down stairs half dressed. One 
of the lodgers found me a pair of old slippers 
for the day. The circumstance was very try- 
ing, yet it was overruled for good, as it brought 
me into another room, where I became acquaint- 
ed with a man who afterwards found me em- 
ployment. For more than two years I had 
been praying that God would make a way for 
me to obtain a livelihood by honest industry. 
Everything that I had tried had hitherto failed ; 
but who would have thought that the loss of 
my shoes and hat would have led to this; but 
so it was. On my return at night from sweep- 
ing the crossing, the lodgers had gathered me 
among themselves three shillings and sixpence 
to buy me a pair of new shoes. 



PAKT III. 

''Is not this he that sat and begged?" 

"The Lord God which gathereth the outcasts of Israel saith, Yet 
will I gather others to him, besides those that are gathered unto him." 

" He brought me up also out of an horrible pit, out of the miry clay, 
and set my feet upon a rock, and established my goings." 

Some time after this I sunk into a cold state 
of mind. I had not that fervor in prayer as 
formerly. I gave way likewise to impatience. 
I reflected on my state, and prayed God to 
strengthen me. I earnestly desired to join the 
Church at Union-street, and wished some of 
the members would converse with me on the 
subject, but could not muster resolution enough' 
to speak to any of the members or the pastor 
upon the subject. A sermon, however, preach- 
ed by the Rev. John Arundel, much impressed 
iny mind, and prevailed over my objections to 
come forward and own myself publicly a fol- 
lower of Christ. It was from these words : 
" Whosoever shall be ashamed of me and of 
my words, of him shall the Son of man be 



118 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

ashamed, when He shall come in His own 
glory, and in his Father's, and of the holy an- 
gels.'' I saw that I had been too much ashamed 
of Christ and of his cause, and resolved no 
longer to delay the commemoration of my Sa- 
viour's dying love. But what if I should not 
be received ? Christ has already received mo, 
and given me pardon and peace. Perhaps they 
may think I want to join them for worldly ad- 
vantages. And what if I should be taken up 
or fall into sin ? He that searcheth the heart 
knoweth the purity of my motives. I am re- 
solved no longer to hesitate, but go to Mr. 
Arundel and open my mind to him. If he re- 
ceive me I shall begin the new year by parta- 
king of the Lord's Supper. If they refuse me 
I shall be no longer to blame. The day at 
length arrived when I came to meet Mr. Arun- 
del. I sat in a pew, my heart fluctuating be- 
tween hope and fear, until it came to my turn 
to go into the vestry. Mr. Arundel received 
me with great kindness, and asked me to sit 
beside him. I told him that I had a great 
desire to partake of the Lord's Supper, and 
to join the people of God, but for a long 
time had been hindered by shame and fear, 
being such a poor unworthy character. Mr. 
Arundel asked me where I lived, and whether 



CONFERENCE WITH THE PASTOR. 119 

I was acquainted with any of the members of 
the church. I told him that I was quite un- 
known to any of them. He asked me if any 
of the neighbors knew me. I told him I was 
quite unknown to all the neighbors, except the 
chandler, shopkeeper, and the persons with 
whom I lodged. After some further conver- 
sation, he said, *^ You cannot be admitted to 
the Lord's table in less than a month, until the 
necessary inquiries are made. Will that do, 
Josiah ?" I answered, ^*I wish to be admitted 
as soon as I can, consistent with your rules." 
He said, ^^ You had better write a letter to me, 
stating your views and experience in religion ;" 
then, taking me by the hand, said, '^ Good night, 
Josiah." The next day I wrote a letter, but so 
badly wrote and blotted that I was ashamed to 
send it, so I got a fellow-lodger to copy it, and 
forwarded it to the minister. 

I had great diflS.culty at this time in getting a 
living, but one thing after another turned up. 
One day, while looking about the city for a job, 
I saw some colored bills on a hoarding, print- 
ed : — ** Do, Papa, buy me a holiday present at 
Valentine's and Crosby's, 172 Leadenhall- 
street." A thought came into my head that I 
would go there and ask for a job. They em- 
ployed me for five days carrying boards. I 



120 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

then sold a little cotton, and for four days found 
work in turning a wheel. After this, I found 
employment at the warm baths in New Broad- 
street. I received a shilling a day, and con- 
trived out of this sum to help my poor fellow- 
lodgers. I tried many experiments of living : 
at last I settled into one to live upon sixpence 
a day. My food was, for breakfast — a halfpen- 
ny worth of oatmeal made into gruel, and half- 
pound of bread ; for dinner — a penny worth 
of bread ; a halfpenny worth of pot-herbs, one 
penny worth of potatoes, and twopenny worth 
of meat for supper, four days a week ; half of 
which I gave away to those who had none. I 
kept twopence for soap and shaving on Sun- 
day ; paid threepence per day for lodging, and 
so saved seven pence a week for clothes. 
Three weeks passed away since I wrote to the 
minister, and, as I heard nothing about it, I 
thought I was rejected, until one Wednesday 
evening I was invited by two gentlemen to stay 
after the service was over. When the people 
were gone home, one of them told me to sit 
down, and open my mind freely to them as I 
would do to a familiar friend. I told them in 
few words my experience when under convic- 
tions ; my joy and peace when I was enabled 
to look to Christ as the Saviour of sinners ; the 



VISIT OF THE MESSENGERS. 121 

love that I felt to my Eedeemer, and growing 
hatred to all sin, and that God had been very 
merciful to me. One of them said, that God, 
in exercising his mercy, had respect to all his 
other attributes. I replied, that God can and 
does shew mercy to sinners through Christ in 
unison with all his other great and glorious 
perfections, holiness, justice, wisdom, and truth. 
They asked me my thoughts on the Lord's Sup- 
per, ** Did I think that there was any merit in 
receiving it?" I replied, none at all; but I 
esteem it a duty and a privilege ; a duty — ^be- 
cause Christ commanded his followers to do it 
in remembrance of Him ; — a privilege — because 
the death of Christ upon the Cross, and all the 
benefits which true believers receive therefrom, 
are set forth in the symbols of bread and wine, 
so as to put our faith and love to Christ and his 
people into lively exercise. After conferring 
between themselves, they took me by the hand 
and said, '^ We will recommend you to the 
Church with the greatest confidence." I said, 
" I hope I shall not do anything that may bring 
disgrace upon the Church.' ' One of them said, 
" Trust not in your own strength, but look up 
to God for the grace of His holy Spirit to keep 
you from falling. You should endeavor to 
bring others to Christ." We all three knelt 
11 



122 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

down ; one of them offered fervent prayer to 
God for his blessing to rest upon me, preserv- 
ing me from all sin and enable me to adorn the 
doctrines of God my Saviour in all things, 
and make me an instrument in bringing others 
to Jesus. I felt my spirit sweetly refreshed by 
this interview, and looked forward to the com- 
ing Sunday with feelings of delightful expect- 
ation. The Sunday came, and I went to chap- 
el. Having rose early for self-examination, 
meditation and secret prayer, I entered upon 
the duty of public worship with feelings of sa- 
cred joy. I expected one of the persons that 
visited me to have come to let me know the 
decision of the church, but after the morning 
service was over, finding that nobody came to 
me, I concluded that I was rejected after all. I 
went home quite cast down. At three o'clock 
preaching commenced in the lodging-house as 
usual. I went in and sat down. While the 
first hymn was being sung, the landlord came 
to me and called me out, saying, *^ A gentleman 
is waiting for you." I went up and found Mr. 
Beal waiting for me. He said, " Did you think 
that you were rejected ?" I said, '^I thought 
I was." He replied, ^* no ! we never reject 
any, however poor, if they love Christ. " I went 
with him to chapel, ^ud was shown into a pew 



ADMISSION TO THE CHUKCH. 123 

with Others, that were received as members at 
the same time. On taking my seat among the 
members, words cannot express the mingled 
feelings of joy, contrition and gratitude which 
filled my mind. Never shall I forget the kind 
and affectionate address of the pastor to me. 
Taking my hand, he said, *' Josiah Basset, I 
give you the right hand of fellowship, and wel- 
come you to this Christian Church. Your path 
has been through the vale of poverty, wanting 
many of the comforts, and sometimes, some of 
the necessaries of life. May God grant you the 
true riches." While partaking of the Lord's 
Supper, I thought within myself, who am I, O 
blessed Eedeemer, that thou shouldest thus 
look upon me — one who has lived such a life 
of rebellion against Thee — who has wallowed 
in uncleanliness : that Thou shouldest shed thy 
precious blood for me — ^that thou shouldest look 
upon me in my lost estate? my dearest 
Saviour, what hast thou done for my soul! 
Thou hast redeemed me to Grod by thy blood* 
Thou hast opened the way to God and heaven, 
and given me a place among thy children. Thy 
love, gracious Saviour, is more refreshing than 
wine. Thou hast loosed my bonds. Thou 
hast set my heart at happy liberty. O my 
blessed Saviour, keep me from anything that 



124 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

might bring reproach upon thy cause. Shed 
thy love more and more in my soul. 

Thou whom my soul admires above 
All earthly joy, and earthly love, 
Tell me, dear Shepherd, let me know 
Where doth thy sweetest pasture grow ? 

The footsteps of thy flock I see : 

Thy sweetest pastures here they be : 

A wondrous feast thy love prepares, 

Bought with thy wounds, and groans, and tears. 

The next week I found my mind filled with 
evil thoughts. I prayed to God to quicken me 
by the Holy Spirit, and make me more heav- 
enly-minded. The first church meeting I felt 
very much annoyed by wicked suggestions, 
and thought I was like Judas, among the dis- 
ciples. 

Mr. Beal invited me to attend the Sunday 
morning prayer-meeting. I have found these 
meetings exceedingly delightful and profitable 
to my soul, and a great means of preparing my 
mind for the public duties of the day. One 
day Miss Arundel made me a present of vari- 
ous articles of clothing in the name of her mo- 
ther. My thoughts were drawn away from 
heavenly things to the things of the world. I 
began to fear lest I should sink into a worldly 



HAPPY DAYS. 125 

spirit. I resolved to avoid, as far as possible, 
receiving any gifts from any of the members, 
and endeavored to furnish myself with decent 
clothes out of my wages. I applied myself 
diligently to the study of the Holy Scriptures. 
Every morning, except when it rained, I rose 
early, and retired to Kennington Common, 
meditating upon some heavenly subject, and 
pouring out my praises and supplications be- 
fore God. Oft have I felt such a sweet sense 
of God's presence as to fill my mind with holy 
awe, and to such a sense of his love, as to fill 
my heart with such heavenly joy, that my poor 
frail body could scarcely contain it. The deep 
gloom and melancholy that had oppressed my 
spirits now gave way to cheerfulness. A sense 
of the divine favor accompanied me wherever 
I went. Every day was a Sabbath of rest to 
my soul, and a rich feast of love. I could use 
the words of Mary, " My soul doth magnify the 
Lord, and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my 
Saviour.^' Every doubt as to my personal in- 
terest in Christ was removed. Whether I 
thought on the past, the present, or the future, 
it gave me delight. Even the temptations and 
dangers to which I was exposed tended to 
sweeten the throne of grace, and to make me 
look forward to heaven, where there is no sin. 
11* 



126 LIFE OF A VAGKAISTT. 

This state of mind continued for more than a 
twelvemonth, with but little interruption. On 
the Sabbath day I endeavored, not only to rest 
from all earthly employment, but from all 
worldly conversation and thought about tem- 
poral things. I wished to be in the spirit on 
the Lord's day. I rose early, as on other 
mornings, to meditate, and pray, and read the 
Scriptures. After breakfast I went to the 
morning prayer- meeting, meditating as I walk - 
ed along, and lifting up my heart to God to 
prepare my mind to profit under the word, and 
that my spirit and understanding might be en- 
gaged in prayer. I often felt in this early 
meeting as at the gate of heaven. I took my 
seat in the gallery of the chapel, and often has 
my soul been exceedingly profited under the 
faithful preaching of the Eev. John Arundel, 
and my heart cheered and strengthened in the 
songs of praise. After the morning service, I 
would return home, without speaking to any- 
body, for as yet I had formed no acquaintance, 
thinking of what I had heard, and praying to 
God to preserve the good seed of his word 
rooted in my heart, and that nothing I might 
see or hear should hinder it from taking deep 
root, and bringing forth fruit. In the after- 
noon I would try to get into conversation with 



MERCIES AND TRIALS. 127 

some of my fellow-lodgers, with a view of say- 
ing something that might benefit them. At 
three o'clock I went to the preaching in the 
lodgings, after which I would have tea, and in 
the evening I tried to persuade some of my fel- 
low-lodgers to accompany me to chapel, and 
when service was over, came home, and after 
examination and prayer, retired to rest. 

How sweet a Sabbath thus to spend, 
In hope of one that ne'er shall end. 

At the end of the year I renewed my com- 
munion card, and began the new year in medi- 
tation and secret prayer, and after an early 
breakfast attended the morning prayer-meet- 
ing. It was a sweet and solemn meeting. I 
felt that God was with us. Mr. Beal established 
social meetings for devotion at several mem- 
bers' houses, which were truly instructive and 
refreshing. The spring of the year was now 
come. I had been fourteen months employed, 
and though my wages were small, the blessing 
of God was upon what I earned. But at a time 
when I least expected it, I was thrown out of 
work. This had like to have shaken my con- 
fidence, and to have drawn my soul from its 
rest ; but calling to mind God's past dealings, 
I felt encouraged. 



128 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

Sunday came, and the first thought that rose 
in my mind was — ^how shall I live next week? 
I tried to banish these feelings by meditating on 
heavenly things, and, retiring to Kennington 
Common, I lifted up my heart to God in praise 
for giving me long uninterrupted employment, 
and implored His grace to enable me to place 
my confidence in Him for the time to come, 
and to free my mind from all earthly cares. I 
returned home filled with peace and joy. This 
Sabbath was one of the most delightful and 
free from worldly thoughts that I ever spent. 
"When any of my fellow-lodgers asked me, 
** Josiah, what will you do next week?" I re- 
plied, ** This is Sunday; I want my mind to 
rest." After the morning service, I returned 
to my lodgings, and having some bacon and 
potatoes for dinner, it had been my custom to 
ask some person to have part with me, who 
had none; now the thought came into my 
mind, I had better save part till to-morrow ; I 
shall then need it ; but again I thought, let me 
not distrust the providence of God, but do good 
as long as he gives me power to do it ; so I 
divided my dinner with a man that had none. 

On Monday morning all my fortitude and 
confidence forsook me. I found my strength 
perfect weakness, and lost sight of God's former 



THREE ALTERNATIVES. 129 

loving-kindness. Those to whom I had been 
kind, now treated me with ingratitude, and my 
imagination roved over long scenes of future 
distress. Three things seemed to offer them- 
selves to me for choice ; to beg from door to 
door, to throw myself upon the Church, or to 
go into the workhouse. Any of these things 
was contrary to my inclination, but I prayed to 
God to give me grace to submit cheerfully to 
his will, and, after some reflection, I applied 
for relief to the overseer, who told me that he 
could not give me any relief, except an order 
to come into the house, for which I must at- 
tend on Wednesday afternoon before the com- 
mittee. I resolved to yield myself to the will 
of God, to go anywhere, to be anything, and suf- 
fer anything, that God might appoint, assured 
of his presence and support under every trial, 
and in every place. My mind now resumed its 
wonted rest, and I was enabled to cast all my care 
upon God. O how sweet is prayer when af- 
flictions press hard upon us, and we tell God 
all our troubles. 

On the morning of the day when I was to 
have attended on the committee, I went over 
to the city, having seen some bills upon a wall 
about a bear to be killed in a few daj^s at a 
hair-dresser's in Threadneedle-street. I went 



130 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

there, and found work for three weeks, so I did 
not go to the poor-house. One job followed 
another, until, with a fellow-servant, I was em- 
ployed to carry boards for the swimming-baths 
in Holborn. My comrade was addicted to 
drinking, and the master having several times 
discovered that he was not on duty, (from a 
boy who was set to watch him) paid him off. 
The next day I was not a little surprised to see 
you. Little did I think, when I met you first, 
that I should find in you a friend and brother 
in Christ. It was some time before we became 
familiar with each other. One night, the weath- 
er being very warm, we were sent both togeth- 
er into Hyde Park, on the banks of the Ser- 
pentine river. I said to you, " How beautiful 
the setting sun ! How it displays the wisdom, 
power, and goodness of God!" You replied, 
and referred to the Sun of Eighteousness. 
From that time, how sweet has been our inter- 
course; how we lightened each other's care, 
brightened each other's hopes, and encouraged 
one another to press onward to the prize. 

Thinking that it would be desirable to leave 
the lodging-house, to live in some pious family, 
I went to live with a poor member of the 
Church, and was accompanied by a pious man 
named GriflS.th, of whose Christian friendship I 



EAGGED SCHOOL TEACHER. 131 

have cause to speak with praise. Mr. and Mrs. 
Wilson did everything in their power to pro- 
mote my comfort, still, though I enjoyed many 
comforts to which I was before a stranger, yet 
I did not enjoy so much of the comforts of the 
Holy Ghost as "before. I felt that in leaving 
the lodging-house I left an important sphere of 
ysefulness. 

It being determined at a meeting of Sunday- 
school teachers to open a school for ragged 
children on Sunday evenings, in Eedcross- 
street, I was asked to take a part in teaching. 

With a deep feeling of my unfitness, I agreed 
to take the alphabet class. As I sat teaching, 
one of the boys made signs to the rest, and they 
capsized me off the form. I thought my pres- 
ence in the school tended to increase the dis- 
order. Often we were assailed with a shower 
of peas. After the school was over the teach- 
ers assembled for social prayer. I went home 
much discouraged. As I came out of the school, 
a number of big lads knocked my hat over my 
eyes. I stayed away a few weeks, and then 
returned, and soon felt a growing delight in 
the work. As I had received spiritual benefit 
from Sunday-school instruction, I labored in 
the pleasing anticipation that some of my in- 
fant charge would become devoted servants of 



132 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

Christ, and labor to extend His kingdom, and 
so, in a spiritual sense, I should see my chil- 
dren's children, and peace upon Israel. I was 
much pleased with the unity, love, and devo- 
tedness of the teachers, and felt the meeting for 
prayer a little Bethel. A nuinber of the chil- 
dren stayed with us at the service. In the 
course of time, a great change was seen in the 
appearance of the children. Some were very 
intelligent, and I had the satisfaction of seeing 
some, who were in my alphabet class, read the 
Bible. I was called upon to address the school, 
and endeavored, by the help of God, to bring 
before their minds the great truths of the Gros- 
pel, and especially the love of Christ. The 
teachers had a meeting on "Wednesday evenings 
for mutual religious improvement. We open- 
ed the school two evenings a week, for instruct- 
ing the youths in reading, writing, and arith- 
metic, and gave them familiar lectures, in turn, 
upon natural history, astronomy, anatomy, 
music, and singing. Being invited to become 
a visitor of the Christian Instruction Society, I 
was appointed to visit a part of Harrow-street, 
Duke-street, Mary Ann Place and Cou.rt. I 
found the neighborhood abounding in vice. I 
have endured some opposition and ill-treat- 
ment on various occasions ; but on the other 



GOOD EFFECTS OF TEETOTALISM. 133 

hand, T had much to encourage me by seeing 
several attend chapel, and many children sent 
to school ; the tracts were generally well re- 
ceived, and I was often invited to come in and 
sit down, and so had frequent opportunities of 
talking with the most abandoned and depraved 
on the importance of seeking the salvation of 
their souls. 

A pious devoted servant of God, at Union- 
street, asked me if I would undertake to stand 
with a placard, warning people against Sabbath- 
breaking, and distribute handbills on the sub- 
ject. I had much opposition, but gave away 
sixteen thousand papers, and hope that some 
fruit will redound to the glory of God. I was 
often called to visit the sick, and have written 
an account of several very interesting cases, but 
I must not give them here. 

Mr. Hudson, total abstinence missionary, 
preached at the lodging-house, and invited the 
people to sign the pledge. I signed my name, 
for I had seen much of the evils of intemper- 
ance, and what a check it was to the spread of 
the Gospel, and to domestic happiness, and how 
many thousands it brought to degradation and 
ruin, body and soul. 

My dear friend and brother in Christ, Mr. 
Griffith, was a striking example of the good 
12 



134 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

effects of teetotalism. As I followed him to 
the grave about this time, I will relate a few 
particulars respecting him. He was a counsel- 
lor to me in difficulty, and consoler in affliction, 
and a faithful reprover when I strayed. He 
told me that his father was foreman over the 
ship-carpenters, at Woolwich dockyard, and a 
consistent and active member of the Wesleyan 
body. When only seven years of age, he had 
serious thoughts of eternity, and frequently re- 
tired for secret prayer. He was afterwards ap- 
prenticed to a pious shoemaker, and married a 
pious woman. He afterwards came to London, 
and was employed at a drug manufactory, 
where he had charge of the steam-engine. His 
early religious impressions wore off, and he 
was by degrees brought to be a confirmed 
drunkard, discharged from his employ, and 
travelled some years about the country. He 
had many narrow escapes of losing his life 
when in a state of intoxication. Once, when 
riding in the front of a cart, he fell down, and 
the wheel passed over his body. He was car- 
ried away senseless, and after some weeks he 
was mercifully restored. God was pleased to 
visit him by his Spirit, and to bring him to a 
sense of his guilt ; and such was the horror of 
his mind, that he went to London bridge, with 



GOOD EFFECTS OF TEETOTALISM. 135 

the intention of throwing himself overboard, 
but the Lord restrained him. He resolved to 
leave off his drinking, but his habits were too 
confirmed. He met a minister, who told him 
the best way would be to abstain from all in- 
toxicating drink. He did so. He became a 
man of prayer, searched the Scriptures, and 
God was pleased to reveal Himself as a pardon- 
ing God, and a gracious flame of love was en- 
kindled in his breast. It was at this time I 
became acquainted with him. Having come to 
London, he lodged in the Mint, at Mrs. Bry- 
ant's. I was sitting reading the word of God 
when he came, and seeing it was the Bible, he 
said, " Friend, thee has got a good companion ; 
if thee is led by that and God's Spirit, thee 
will do." This led to an interesting conversa- 
tion on the value of the Scriptures. He was 
much concerned for his spiritual relatives and 
acquaintance; got religious friends to assist 
them, and wrote to them many affecting letters. 
He was particularly importunate for his son and 
daughter. He was in the habit of hawking 
spectacles from house to house for his living. 
He usually carried a religious tract with him, 
and when they tried on his glasses, would give 
it to them to read, and often would lead them 
into serious discourse. He had hope of some 



136 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

that he conversed with, especially an aged man, 
who was a professed infidel. Circumstances 
led to his removal from Mrs. Wilson's to Mrs. 
Man well's, a humble member of the Church at 
Union-street, where he found a home during 
the remainder of his life. He suffered much, 
but his mind was serene and happy. When I 
asked him if he was afraid to die, he repeated 
these lines : — 

Jesus, thy blood and righteousness 
My beauty are, my glorious dress ; 
Midst flaming worlds, in these array'd 
With joy shall I lift up my head. 

He often expressed his gratitude to God for 
bringing him under Mrs. Man well's roof, where 
he enjoyed such delightful Christian inter- 
course, and such kind attention to his wants. 
He partially recovered for a season, and then 
sunk away. He was admitted into Guy's Hos- 
pital, where he underwent an operation, which 
he did not survive more than three days. His 
end was peace. Dear friend, thy pain has 
ceased, thy warfare is ended, and now thy hap- 
py spirit is before the throne of God and the 
Lamb. Though I feel my loss, I would not 
wish thee back; but hope, ere long, to join 
thee in heaven. He was followed to the grave 



SPIRITUAL CONDITION. 137 

by his son and daughter, myself, and several 
Christian friends. The Kev. Eobert Littler 
gave an affectionate address to the mourners. 

After my summer's work was over, I lost my 
employment for a few weeks, but, in the kind- 
ness of providence, my wants were all supplied. 
I went from one kind of service to another, 
until Mr. Culver well kindly took me into his 
care, and endeavored to instruct me, and put 
me in the way of rising in the world ; but all 
his good intentions and concern for my tempo- 
ral advancement proved of no avail. Though 
much improved in my outward circumstances, 
yet I was fast declining in spiritual things, the 
influences of the Holy Spirit were partially 
withdrawn, I mourned an absent Saviour, and 
was led to say, " Oh, that I were as in months 
past, as in the day when God preserved me ; 
when his candle shined upon my head, and 
when by his light I walked through darkness." 

While I sat one morning in chapel, before 
the service commenced, while musing on the 
sad condition of my soul, it seemed as if Jesus 
addressed me in these words : " When thou 
wast little in thine own eyes, and low and de- 
spised in the eyes of thy fellow-creatures, I 
looked with pity upon thee. I SQUght thee out 
when thou wast living in rebellion against me, 
12* 



138 LIFE OF A VAGRAKT. 

and wallowing in uncleanness. I looked upon 
thee in love, washed thee in my own blood, 
and regenerated thee by my Holy Spirit, and 
made thee a child of God. I covered thee with 
my spotless and perfect righteousness. I made 
thee to rejoice in me. I guided thee, watched 
over thee, sustained thee, and blessed thee with 
my divine favor ; but now thou hast wander- 
ed from me. What evil hast thou found in me 
to serve me thus ? What can it profit thee to 
have forsaken me, the fountain of living waters, 
and to have hewed out broken cisterns, that 
can hold no water?'' 

My heart was melted, I made confession of 
my wanderings, and earnestly besought the 
Lord not to forsake me. After this I was re- 
stored to the peace I formerly possessed. We 
had our troubles at the chapel. In consequence 
of the retirement of Mr. Arundel, and the con- 
sequent removal of a number of members, the 
funds of the Christian Instruction Society was 
so low, that they deemed it necessary to give 
up the ragged school, which had been hitherto 
paid for out of its funds. Notice to that effect 
was given to the teachers, when some were for 
giving up the school, while others were resolved 
to stand by it. After prayer and consultation, 
we all determined to continue the school, and, 



TROUBLES AT THE CHAPEL. 189 

by our own subscriptions, with the aid of 
friends, to meet the expenses. Many of the 
members at Union-street promised their sup- 
port. The school prospered, and one of the 
most troublesome scholars, who was expelled, 
became a member of the Church. Mr. Beal, our 
excellent superintendent, after six years' faith- 
ful service, resigned, and shortly after we were 
obliged to quit the premises in Red Cross- 
street. We were afraid we should not obtain 
a room, but, through the kind exertions of Mr. 
Bradford and Mr. George Izod, we obtained a 
room in Mint-street. Soon after, we lost our 
esteemed secretary, Mr. Hebden, but Mr. 
Bradford kindly consented to become our su- 
perintendent, and encouraged by the sympathy 
of our beloved pastor, the increased state of 
the funds, and the addition of several teachers, 
we resolved to extend the usefulness of the 
school, by opening an industrial school. Mr. 
Johnson, Mr. Grasold, Mr. Martyr, Mr. Saund- 
by, Mr. Press, Mr. Charrington, and others, 
were very active. We had out-door preach- 
ing. Mr. Archer and Mr. Waddington spoke 
for some weeks in the summer, twice every Sun- 
day, when the weather would permit. Much 
good will, I hope, be done, but still there are 
many things to hinder. 



140 LIFE OF A VAGRAKT. 

When I left Mr. CulverwelFs, I determined 
to return to Mrs. Bryant ^s, believing that was 
the sphere of usefulness which God had mark- 
ed out for me. After being a week out of em- 
ployment, I was taken on the Borough election 
as a messenger, and after a week Mr. Bennett 
took me into the cashkeeper's room. When 
the election was over I sold turnery upon com- 
mission, but could not succeed. For some time 
I was kept in a state of dependence upon God 
for every meal ; but His promise was fulfilled ; 
^' Thy bread shall be given, and thy water shall 
be sure." God was also pleased, in his great 
mercy, to smile on my humble labors in his 
vineyard, in various ways — sinners converted, 
backsliders reclaimed, children instructed, and 
some, for whose spiritual welfare my soul had 
often yearned, brought safe to glory, leaving 
their dying testimony to the efficacy of Jesus' 
blood. 

One Sunday, my faith was put to a severe 
trial. I arose in the morning as usual, took 
my morning walk for meditation and prayer, 
came back and had no breakfast ; but felt as- 
sured God would supply my need. I then 
went to the social meeting, and public worship, 
where God was pleased to feed my soul upon 
his holy word. I returned home, but not to 



A TRYING DAY. 141 

dine; yet the Lord consoled me with the 
words: ^'Though it tarry, wait for it, for it 
will surely come, and will not tarry." In the 
evening I went to the ragged school. After 
teaching my class I was called upon to address 
the children. I did so, though I felt so faint 
that I could hardly go through with it, and af- 
ter I had finished went home. I asked Mrs. 
Bryant for a light to go to bed. My faith now 
began to waver, and Satan suggested that the 
promise had failed. Mrs Bryant asked me if I 
were ill. I could hardly answer. She said, 
''Have you had anything to eat?" "No," I 
replied. She gave me a pound of bread, some 
butter, tea, and sugar. I went down stairs, and 
with a thankful heart sat down to what God 
had provided for me, and blessed his holy 
name for his faithfulness and truth. On anoth- 
er occasion I went out, not knowing which way 
to go. I went in one direction, and then, 
changing my mind, I went the other way, 
where I met Mr. Oulverwell, who, after asking 
me of my affairs, gave me half-a-crown. In 
numerous other instances the Lord appeared 
for me in his providence in such a way as to 
make it appear, both to myself and others, to 
be the finger of God. On one occasion, after a 
fruitless search for employment, I came home, 



142 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

and went into the shop to get some bread on 
trust, when Mr. Bryant said it was time to close 
the account, that he should let me have no 
more on trust till I could pay off the old score. 
I thought now is the time of my extremity. 
** Lord appear for me !" Mrs. Bryant followed 
me out, and told me not to grieve, and gave 
me sixpence. The next morning I went to the 
London Mission-house, and found that there 
was a number of parcels to deliver, and they 
kept me employed for a week. I met with 
much sympathy and kindness from many 
Christian friends, so that I paid a considerable 
part of my debts. But I soon was out of work 
again, yet God provided for all my wants, and 
comforted and supported my soul. I was told 

by Mr. Bryant that Mr. had called, and left 

word that I was to call on him. I went to his 
shop in High-street, Borough, and he set me to 
work to grind coffee and go errands. Though 
he only took me on to work for him occasion- 
ally, I have been with him up to the present 
time. Here the kind providence of God was 
manifested during a winter of great scarcity. 
I was fed, and enabled to pay off my debts, 
and, in a time of extreme depression in trade, 
was fully employed. I was placed in a new 
sphere of action, to which I had never been ac- 



A KEW SPHERE. 143 

customed. I found myself exceedingly weak, 
and the late hours of business, with the loss 
of week evening services, and of my morning- 
walk for prayer and meditation, had an inju- 
rious effect upon my spiritual health. I was 
less grateful than when I fed on meaner fare, 
and often closed the day scarcely able to raise 
a desire toward heaven. On the Lord's-day I 
rose with my mind crowded with thoughts of 
tea, coffee, and sugar. I found a valuable 
friend and companion in Mr. Corney, in whose 
Christian converse I have often been instructed 
and refreshed. I found it a great help to carry 
with me a pocket Testament, and read a small 
portion when travelling by railway or steam- 
er, and God has often been pleased to carry 
the word with power to my soul, and throw a 
flood of sacred light and joy into my heart. I 
also had the company of my late dear friend 
Mr. Hatch, whose memory is fragrant to all 
who knew him, as a true disciple of Christ — • 
beloved at home, esteemed by his master, and 

approved by all the Church. From Mr. 

and his household I experienced much kind- 
ness, and no doubt he would have raised me to 
a higher station, had I been qualified for it. I 
do not expect to be much employed now, as 
they have engaged a man more suitable for 



144 THE LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

the work than myself. It being necessary that 
I should lodge nearer my work, I left Mrs. 
Bryant^s to live at Mrs. ManwelFs, from whom 
I received great kindness. Before I take leave 
of Mrs. Bryant, I would give my humble tes- 
timony to her motherly attention to all her 
lodgers, especially those that were sick, both 
for their bodies and souls. Though I am re- 
moved, I still feel for her the deepest respect, 
and still bear the family and the lodgers upon 
my heart at the throne of grace, and am anx- 
ious to promote their spiritual and temporal 
welfare. 

Our late beloved pastor, the Rev. J. Arun- 
del, wishing to see me, I obtained leave to go 
to Brixton, to his house. As I went along, I 
felt a sweet solemnity steal over my spirit when 
I thought that I was about to receive a parting 
blessing from the dying pastor. When I got 
there, I was invited into the parlor by Mrs. 
Arundel. Mr. Arundel came in and shook 
hands with me. He then inquired after my 
spiritual and temporal welfare, and how things 
were going on at Union-street. He asked af- 
ter the welfare of a number of the poorer mem- 
bers by name, telling me to give his kind re- 
gards to them, and all the rest, saying, **They 
are all my children.^' He exhorted me to cleave 



THE CLOUD BREATHED AWAY. 145 

close to Christ, and gave me a bundle of wear- 
ing apparel, and, after a little more conversa- 
tion, I took my farewell. He preached and 
took the Sacrament after this at Union-street, 
and never shall I forget those affecting scenes. 
He expressed strong affection for our present 
minister, and deep interest in the Church. He 
said God had prolonged his days, he could not 
see for what purpose, except to glorify God by 
suffering, and if so, welcome suffering ; and if 
so, welcome death. He then poured forth his 
soul in fervent prayer for the minister and his 
flock. After the ordinance, our new pastor 
said, " This is my recognition service. I need 
no other." 

In November I caught the influenza, with, 
which I was obliged to lay up, and in the night, 
I could get no rest. A horror of great dark- 
ness came over my mind. No sweet promise 
could I realize, but many awful threatenings 
crowded into my recollection. Satan suggest- 
ed that I had been deceiving myself and others. 
But it pleased God to breathe away the cloud. 
As I lay in my bed this precious word was ap- 
plied with power — *^ Fear not thou worm Ja- 
cob, I have redeemed thee ; thou art mine." 
Melted down by the sweet assurance of the 
Holy Spirit, I could not forbear weeping and 
13 



146 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

saying, ^* O Lord, I will praise thee ; though 
thou wast angry with me, thine anger is turned 
away, and thou comfortest me. Behold God is 
my salvation : I will trust, and not be afraid : 
for the Lord Jehovah is my strength and my 
song : He also is become my salvation." All 
my doubts and fears were now driven to the 
wind, and as I mused I thought as if my spirit 
was released from the body, and as it winged 
its flight to heaven, Jesus stood upon his throne, 
and with a countenance full of majesty and 
love, said. Thou art one of those whom I have 
redeemed by my blood. Thou art mine, come 
up hither ! Surely God has fulfilled his prom- 
ise : "I will make all thy bed in sickness." It 
pleased God to bless the means used for my 
restoration. 

I heard that a lodger of Mrs. Bryant's was 
very bad, and not expected to live, and that 
he had expressed a desire to see me. I visited 
him that evening, but found him quite insensi- 
ble. His eyes were weak, and his hands con- 
tinually at work. It was with some difficulty 
that the clothes were kept on the bed. I went 
up to him and said, " Selmon, how do you do ?" 
He took no notice, but said, ^' Is that bath 
ready?'' The lady who waited on him said, 
she had been an attendant at the warm baths 



DEATH OF A DEIST. 147 

in New Broad-street. I had known this poor 
man for five years. He was a professed deist, 
and was bitterly opposed to all religion. Yet 
he took a liking to me, and had done me im- 
portant service in getting me employment. He 
was given to intemperance. When he came 
home intoxicated, he would curse me and all 
the missionaries and parsons, and wished to 

see them all tied together in a bundle, and . 

At other times he would say, " After all, the 
religious man is the happiest man," and " I wish 
I could be like you." Upon my pressing the 
claims of religion on his attention he would 
say, " It is of no use, Josiah, my learning is so 
high I cannot submit to it." "When I lived at 
Mr. Wilson's I wrote a letter to him, in which 
I entreated him to seek the salvation of his soul. 
He was at first displeased, but in a few weeks 
after called upon me, and appeared concerned 
about his soul, and said he would go with me 
to Union-street chapel. I went with him sev- 
eral successive Sundays, and had great hopes 
of him ; but his impressions passed away, and 
he relapsed into his old sins, and, for all that I 
know, died without repentance. 

Here I must bring my narrative to a close. 



REMARKS. 



The general reader must be excused from the pe- 
rusal of the following remarks suggested by the nar- 
rative, which, in the preceding page, is brought 
somewhat abruptly to its close. Some, however, 
who wish to turn the subject to practical account, 
may not be unwilling to continue their attention a 
little longer. 

1. The EVILS OF VAGRANCY are not so vividly de- 
picted in the work of my humble friend as might be 
desired. Faithful, in other respects, as he is in the 
relation of his own delinquencies, he is too tender in 
reference to the system of which for so long a period 
he was the melancholy victim. Though the title of 
this little publication is of his own selection, it will 
have been observed that he never once mentions the 
word *' vagrant" in his narration. Perhaps he had a 
lingering respect for his order ; and, from a wish to 
conciliate rather than to offend, he designates them 
''travellers." He was by no means one of the worst 
specimens of his class, and, trained from infancy in 
vagrant habits, it is possible that he has not yet a 
just idea of the extent of the mischief produced by 
those who in a course of fraud, pollution, and intem- 
perance, render themselves the vampires of society. 
The deceptions he practised were^sufficiently deplo- 
rable, but he does not seem to have been addicted to 
pilfering, or to have committed more daring acts of 



REMARKS. 149 

crime. He had, moreover, some disposition to work 
when employment was to be had. Vile, therefore, 
as his conduct was, we must not consider it as a per- 
fect type of the mendicant who resorts to the arts of 
imposition in the intervals when unoccupied ia more 
malevolent and mischievous designs. It will startle 
some, who have not made inquiry into the moral 
statistics of this country, to be told that, in one year, 
the number of vagrants relieved was 1,649,975, in- 
dependently of private assistance, and altogether 
apart from the support of the regular parochial poor. 
According to the data supplied by the unions nearly 
50,000 of that number are constantly affected by dis- 
ease. In five towns alone 28,708 are known to the 
police as having no visible means of subsistence, and 
deriving a wretched existence from various forms of 
imposture, mendicancy, and prostitution. "If," says 
the Christian Times, " we come to inquire how 
this class of vagrants that, at the best, have so much 
to suffer, finds relays to keep up its numbers, the an- 
swer makes us acquainted with a new set of the 
most humiliating facts : children deserted or ill-used 
by their parents and masters ; boys decoyed by others 
already initiated in this feculent school ; servant girls 
that have lost their reputation, and have no home ; 
poor strangers that are, at first, merely unfortunate ; 
insubordinate youth, corrupted by the trash of the 
Jack Sheppard school ; intemperate artisans out of 
employ ; shoals of Irish laborers without money, 
employment, or friends ; the wastril part of the 
maritime population ; discharged convicts ; courte- 
sans who have sunk from the gaudier to the most 
wretched condition ; with here and there the virtu- 
ous but broken down family ; these are the recruits 
for the English vagrant army, who are drilled in the 
infamous lodging-houses, out of the last restraints of 
13^ 



150 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

virtue, and then are disgorged upon the community, 
to plunder, to decoy, to pollute, and to outrage, what- 
ever is decent among the compassionate, the virtu- 
ous, the poor, and the well-conducted citizens." The 
injury done to all classes by the nefarious course of 
these social marauders is incalculable. None suf- 
fer from it more than the industrious poor. The ar- 
tisan out of employ endures a secret martyrdom from 
privation and disappointment, while the idle and un- 
principled vagrant, from some fictitious tale of suf- 
fering, or, still worse, by some hypocritical relation 
of religious experience, gleans at his leisure the 
means of vicious and often luxurious indulgence. 
And yet, though facts of the most astounding nature 
are forced upon our notice to exhibit the baseness 
and virulence of the lowest order of mendicants, we 
must not entertain the idea that every applicant for 
casual relief has a sinister design ; nor should we 
suppose that every keeper of a lodging-house is de- 
void of moral sensibility. Josiah, no doubt, on his 
return to London with the feelings of a secret disci- 
ple, was often repelled as an impostor ; and a news- 
paper commissioner might put Mrs. Bryant in the cate- 
gory of harpies. Nothing is more common, and yet 
nothing can be more deceptive than a superficial 
glance at the question of vagrancy. It is one of 
momentous character, and demands the considera- 
tion of the calmest, clearest, most discriminating, 
and of the profoundest minds our country can fur- 
nish. 

2. No thoughtful person can ponder the state- 
ments of this wandering beggar and not be impressed 
with the necessity of continuous and systematic in- 
dustry. Barrow's sermons on this subject are well 
worthy of being reprinted in the form of tracts. 
From the correct and manly ideas now taken of the 



REMARKS. 151 

dignity of labor, they would be read with interest by 
myriads. Take the following extracts by way of 
specimen : — '' Industry doth not consist merely in 
action : for that is incessant in all persons, our mind 
being a restless thing, never abiding in a total cessa- 
tion from thought or design ; being like a ship in the 
sea, if not steered to some good purpose by reason, yet 
tossed by the waves of fancy, or driven by the winds 
of temptation somewhither. But the direction of our 
mind to some good end, without roving or flinching, 
in a straight and steady course, drawing after it our 
active powers in execution thereof, doth constitute 
industry." " No industrious man is contemptible : 
for he is ever looked on as a being in a way of thriv- 
ing, of working himself out from straits, of advan- 
cing himself into a better condition. But without 
industry we cannot expect anything but disrespect, 
shame, and reproach, which are the certain portion 
of the slothful : — he not having the heart to enter- 
prise, or the resolution and patience to achieve any- 
thing deserving regard, or apt to procure it : he want- 
ing all the ornaments and good fruits that grow from 
industry ; he being only fit for a sordid and servile 
condition ; whence ' the slothful,' saith Solomon, 
* shall be under tribute ;' and * He that sleepeth in 
harvest, is a son that causeth shame ;' he causeth it 
to his relations, by his beggarly accoutrements, he 
causeth it much more to himself by his despicable 
faultiness, and by the disgraceful consequences of it." 
" Sloth is a base quality, the argument of a mind 
wretchedly degenerate and mean : which is content 
to grovel in a despicable state : which aimeth at no 
worthy thing, nor pursueth anything in a laudable 
way ; which disposeth a man to live gratis (preca- 
riously) and ingratefully on the public stock, as an 
insignificant cypher among them, as a burden of the 



152 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

earth, as a wen of any society : sucking aliment from 
it, but yielding no benefit or ornament thereto." 
" Industry is a fence to innocence and virtue : a bar 
to all kinds of sin and vice, guarding the avenues of 
our heart, keeping off the occasions and temptations 
to vicious practice. When a man is engaged in 
honest employment and seriously intent therein, his 
mind is prepossessed and filled, so that there is no 
room or vacancy for ill thoughts or base designs to 
creep in ; his senses do not lie open to ensnaring ob- 
jects; he wants leisure and opportunity of granting 
audience to sinful pleasures." We see this plainly 
in the course of Josiah. The most satisfactory part 
of his vagrant career is that in which he found a 
winter's employment on the banks of the Spey. The 
Apostles commanded, " that if any would not work, 
neither should he eat." The rule is just, and even 
beneficent. One of the first duties a parent or 
guardian owes to the child committed to his care is 
to train him to some useful occupation. The healthy 
tone of intelligent working-men in relation to this 
subject, is remarkable. The communications from 
artisans in the Working Man's Friend, supple- 
mentary number for March, 1850, are of the highest 
interest. "Labor," saysW. G. Denham (one of the 
contributors), " labor preserves both the heart, the 
head, and the hands from rust and decay ; it disci- 
plines and strengthens both our physical and moral 
nature ; it teaches man the valuable lessons of pa- 
tience, fortitude, endurance, and forbearance ; it de- 
stroys the selfish idleness to which he is prone, and 
which only demoralizes and degrades those who in- 
dulge in it ; and thus does it enable him to achieve 
the most sublime and moral victories over the selfish- 
ness and evil there is in the world." 

3. But of what avail, it will be said, are homilies 



REMARKS. 153 

on industry and virtue to those who are sunk into 
the lowest state of indolence, profligacy, and vice ? 
How will you raise them from '' that undermost stra- 
tum of society, upon which ignorance squats contented 
and crime crawls about unconscious of its own hide- 
ousness ?" Indeed, the question is one that may take 
our breath, and silence by its own difficulty. What 
remedies, permit us to inquire in return, do you pro- 
pose for these fearful evils ? Popular literature ? 
They cannot read. Better laws ? They have no 
regard for law, and only become acquainted with it 
by the penalties enforced on its violation. Benevo- 
lent institutions ? They hate the very mention of 
them. No I the favorite plan for the amelioration 
of their condition is to surround them with more 
favorable circumstances. Now, we disparage no 
means or agencies that Christian philanthropy may 
provide. Let them be multiplied a thousand fold. 
Still may we submit, with becoming diffidence, the 
necessity of a closer examination of the plague to be 
removed. A portion of society, it is affirmed, is in- 
curably bad. Of what is that society composed ? 
Look at its separate elements, and deal with them 
individually. Society is deranged, for this reason 
only, that man is depraved. How will you remove 
that depravity ? By external or internal influences ? 
Will you begin with the branches or with the root ? 
The tree is corrupt ; transplant it. The wine is 
sour ; change the vessel. The material of the ma- 
chine is unsound ; give it a new direction. The poi- 
son rankles in the blood ; amputate a limb. Recom- 
mendations of this kind pass for philosophy, states- 
manship, superhuman penetration. Has the world 
ever seen to this hour any moral phenomena com- 
parable with those of true conversion ? Was it 
ever known that the current of the soul was turned 



154 • LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

by any other power than that of divine truth applied 
by the agency of the Holy Spirit ? Prison discipline, 
emigration, secular instruction, have yet to furuish 
their first instance of real moral transformation. 
*' Can the Ethiopian change his skin, or the leopard 
his spots ? Then may those also do good that are 
acciostomed to do evil." No doubt, to some all this 
w^ill appear excessively weak and irrational. The 
laws of the spiritual world are nevertheless as uni- 
form m their operation as the laws of nature. It 
may come to pass that the present mode of husband- 
ry will be descried as too simple. Some other pro- 
cess for raising crops will be proposed as the substi- 
tute for sowing the seed. Chemical appliances 
may be recommended in lieu of the dew and the rain 
of heaven. To persist in the ordinary methods of 
culture may excite, in an advanced school of scien- 
tific agriculturists, the smile of ridicule. Time will 
tell. The purposes of heaven will not change. 
. " My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are 
your ways my ways, saith the Lord ; for as the 
heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways 
higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your 
thoughts, for as the rain cometh down, and the snow 
from heaven, and returneth not thither, but watereth 
the earth, and maketh it bring forth and bud, that it 
may give seed to the sower, and bread to the eater, 
so shall my word be that goeth forth out of my 
mouth ; it shall not return unto me void, but it shall 
accomplish that which I please, and it shall prosper 
in the thing whereto I sent it." 

4. JNTo mortal has a just pretence to perish in de- 
spair. The blackest heart that beats in human bo- 
som, may be made pure. The guiltiest conscience 
may obtain peace. Man sunk in the extremest 
wretchedness may recover all that he has lost. The 



REMARKS. 1 55 

narrative of Josiah. is full of encouragement to the 
outcast. He is by no means a solitary instance of 
the power of the gospel to enlighten, to sustain, to 
comJbrt, and to elevate. In the district of the Mint 
one of our Christian visitors met with a poor woman 
in circumstances of self-afflicted misery even more 
aggravated than that endured by the "vagrant." 
She was found lying on a bundle of shavings in the 
corner of a dark filthy room, stripped of every article 
of furniture. Her husband was wandering through 
the country, and she was sinking rapidly under the 
power of disease. The visitor procured medicine for 
her relief, but there was no cup or other vessel in 
the room into which it could be poured. By Chris- 
tian care and attention she was restored almost from 
the dead. After long and unwearied efforts she was 
taught to read the Bible, and her partner on his re- 
turn was surprised by witnessing a complete change 
in her appearance, habits, and conduct. He was 
struck with the order and cleanliness of their apart- 
ment, but manifested some aversion to the religion 
which had produced its comfort. He was reluctant 
at first to attend with his wife at chapel ; but grad- 
ually, by her kindness and patience his objections 
were removed. An intemperate, quarrelsome, and, 
in consequence, unhappy pair, became sober, reli- 
gious, and truly devoted. For many years they have 
adorned their Christian profession, and no people in 
humble life can enjoy more respect than they receive 
from all that know them. They have distributed in 
different parts of England thousands of Christian pub- 
lications, and sold many copies of the Scriptures. It 
is true, the change of circumstances is not always so 
decided and manifest as the change of character. A 
man who has been idle, vicious, or fraudulent, may 
be converted, like Josiah, in prison ; but he can- 



156 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

not reasonably expect that he will find immediately 
the confidence and support secured by Christian con- 
sistency maintained through a long series of years. 
Every true disciple has to go through an ordeal of 
some kind to prove his sincerity. It is well that it 
should be so. . But patience, faith, fervent prayer, 
and persevering effort will overcome everything. We 
are made perfect through suffering, and if we will 
only accept with humility the lot appointed for us, 
and improve opportunities, however simple, as they 
are presented to us, we shall obtain a better position 
in time, and while we climb the hill Difficulty, it is 
our happiness to lean upon our Father God, I hope 
this little book will find its way to many a prison 
cell, to the haunts of misery and crime, and that the 
poor criminal, the wretched prodigal, and the un- 
happy Magdalen, will read it in secret, and be moved 
by the unseen Hand which, in Beverley gaol, brought 
my humble friend to the Cross with weeping and 
supplication, and that, like him, they will obtain 
mercy, walk in the path of life, become useful in the 
world, and finally meet him in a world of purity 
and everlasting joy. Reader, if you like the book, 
do not fail to recommend it to others. Farewell. 



SUPPLEMENTARY REMARKS. 



I. It becomes my pleasing duty in issuing the third 
edition of " The Life of a Yagrant," to acknowl- 
edge the kind reception it has met with, and, on the 
part of my humble friend, to express his lively sense 
of grateful obligation. The fact that more than a 
thousand copies have been circulated, without a line 
of advertisement, is an encouraging token that the 
narrative commends itself by its truthfulness and 
simplicity to the candid and benevolent of every 
class, and that, in its silent progress, friends are en- 
listed on its behalf. The Christian reader will be 
gratified to learn that (so far as careful observation 
can trace) the spirit of Josiah has not been injured 
by the publicity given to his name. He was pre- 
pared by previous discipline to record his simple tes- 
timony, and my hope is that he will live to witness 
some of its happy results. Some have expressed 
their fears lest, from the personal attentions of par- 
ties of eminence, he should lose the grace of humil- 
ity. — " There is," to adopt the language of Yinet, 
" a true and there is a false humility. By the latter 
we understand not hypocritical humility, or a volun- 
tary disguise oi pride, but a humility which deceives 
itself in making a wrong choice of its object ; for 
though it is true that we cannot humble ourselves 
too much, this does not hold true of every kind of 
abasement ; and he who humbles himself, but not 
14 



158 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

before Ood, or in the name of God, humbles himself 
unseasonably. I say more : it is due to God him- 
self, it is due to the principle which leads us to hum- 
ble ourselves before Him, not to humble ourselves to 
any other. If every Christian is ready to acknowl- 
edge himself the chief of sinners ; if every Christian, 
looking upon each of his brethren as more excellent 
than himself, seeks the lowest place more willingly 
than the first, — no Christian will prostrate his dig- 
nity of man and Christian before a title, a fortune, or 
a name. On the contrary, we may recognize tho 
Christian by the modest nobleness of his mien, and 
the meek freedom of his speech in presence of the 
noble and powerful of the world. He who is intimi- 
dated by the show of grandeur, the lustre of human 
glory, or even superiority of talent and knowledge : 
he who sees in a man, without being able to say 
what, anything else than a man : he who in pres- 
ence of one of the favorites of nature or fortune de- 
means himself by the demonstration of a servile ob- 
sequiousness : he, if he is a Christian, conceals it 
very carefully: or rather, to speak correctly, what 
he conceals so carefully is nothing." The grace of 
God, and that alone, teaches us the happy medium 
between contemptible servility and absurd pretension. 
However, no complaints have yet been made as to 
the manners of my ex-vagrant friend, and no apolo- 
gy I feel assured will be necessary to make to any 
who may give him a personal interview. In one of 
his unpublished meditations (mentioned in his note=^) 
he writes in the following strain : — 

" Be clothed with humility. O my soul, thirst not for hu- 
man praise. Covet not to be distinguished above others. Be 
content to take the lowest place and become servant of all. 

* See preface. 



SUPPLEMENTARY REMARKS. 159 

Be not puffed up with thine attainments in knowledge or spir- 
itual gifts, remembering that thou hast received them from 
God as unmerited favors. O my soul, be humbled in the dust. 
Look back upon thy past life and see in what a state of deg- 
radation and misery God found thee. Remember thou wast 
a poor despised outcast, without a friend, without a home, 
tossed to and fro in the earth, sunk in depravity and wretch- 
edness, being a stranger to the Church, having no hope and 
without God in the world. Never forget that thou wert wal- 
lowing in thy blood — when thy fellow-creatures would have 
shut their doors against thee. Poor and helpless, God looked 
upon thee. He had pity, and in His loving-kindness He sent 
the Holy Spirit to quicken thee from death in trespasses and 
sins. Give all the glory to Him. Consider thy numerous 
wanderings since thou hast tasted of His saving grace. Con- 
sider how much sin now mingles with all thy performances — 
and the many opportunities of doing good let slip by thee — 
and be humble." 



Under these circumstances it must be a real grat- 
ification to the friends of humanity to promote by a 
friendly word the circulation of this unpretending 
narrative. An estimable Christian lady, (a near 
neighbor of mine) has obtained for it more than fifty 
subscribers, and in a single workshop sixteen copies 
were taken. If those who feel an interest m the 
fortunes of a '' Yagrant," notwithstanding his "sim- 
ple appearance," will imitate these practical exam- 
ples, he will be spared some of the involuntary fasts 
he spent when his history was unknown. 

II. But the design of the publication is by no 
means limited to the attainment of private advantage 
even to one eminently deserving. The chief desire 
of the writer is, that it may tend, in its own quiet 
circle of thoughtful readers, to awaken a more en- 
lightened and compassionate interest in the condition 
of the "outcast." The Christian Church owes a 
deep debt to the neglected portions of society — a debt 
moreover that cannot be discharged by proxy. The 



160 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

true condition, of the destitute and wandering poor is 
not after all fully understood. Recent researches 
conducted with admirable zeal and assiduity by com- 
missioners, have brought to light many startling facts. 
Whatever may be thought of the theories based upon 
them, or of the spirit of the comments sometimes 
made in the course of these investigations, the effect 
of them must be useful. And yet our social mala- 
dies are not traced by them to their origin, nor are 
the principles applied adequate to the real solution 
of the difficulties involved. Symptoms are mista- 
ken for the primary disease — remedies are suggest- 
ed of empirical character and of mere local opera- 
tion. The inquiry needs to be pressed further — with 
greater discrimination and more patient attention. 
The Church must trace in this pursuit the footsteps 
of Him who came " to seek and to save that which 
is lost :" for only as the scenes of human wretched- 
ness are explored in the spirit of faith and Christian 
charity can means be devised for the restoration of 
the forlorn — the self-degraded and the unhappy. 
Pictures of revolting depravity or of harrowing mis- 
ery — drav/n to satisfy a morbid curiosity, or in some 
instances to excite worse feeling, avail nothing. Ex- 
posure may aggravate the evil. Care should be ta- 
ken not to lose opportunity for judicious, kind and 
persevering effort, by dressing up cases for histrionic 
display. More should be done and less said. The 
Christian should give himself to the work, as well 
as his money, he would then understand better its 
nature and progress than by any annual report. The 
reflex influence of this active benevolence, would be 
most blessed. Talents of the highest order would be 
elicited, and the noblest affections called into exer- 
cise. Internecine conflict would cease, and the ques- 
tion of Church authority be set at rest in the alhper- 



SUPPLEMENTARY REMARKS. 161 

vading and uniting spirit of brotherly love. It has 
occurred to me that the experience of Josiah and the 
facts communicated by him in frequent conversation 
relative to the habits of the vagrant — his haunts and 
associations — deceptive tricks and demoralizing influ- 
ence, would furnish material for a small companion 
volume. The publication of such a work must de- 
pend entirely on the desire expressed for it by its 
friends. Incur joint authorship we will endeavor to 
keep within due limits, and unless our readers wish 
to know more of the mysteries of vagrancy, we must 
keep them to ourselves. The opinions of those who 
have directed attention to the subject, will therefore 
be greatly valued. The earlier the communication 
of them the more useful. 

III. It has not surprised me to learn that some 
are a little incredulous as to the genuineness of Jo- 
si ah' s style in the narrative. They can scarcely 
credit the statement that, one who in early life was 
regarded as an impracticable idiot, should express 
himself in the language of a person distinguished by 
some mental culture. The fact, nevertheless, is such, 
and ample evidence of it is supplied in the manu- 
scripts now in my possession. Amongst them is the 
original sheet of paper brought for the purpose of 
obliging the friend who first expressed a wish to have 
some account of Josiah's history, that he might read 
it to his partner at home. A paragraph in this rough 
draft of the story throws lighten his mental history. 
He says, 

" At ten years of age, I was fond of reading. I read with 
eagerness the historical parts of Scripture, and as far as my 
small means would go, bought books. My father, perceiving 
my passion for reading, gave me encouragement, by borrow- 
ing and buying books for me. I read, among others, the 
Newgate Calendar, Fox's Martyrs, the Dublin Reader, Vicar 
14* 



162 LIFE OF A VAGKANT. 

of Wakefield, the Man of Feeling, Paul and Virginia, the Pil- 
grim's Progress, Plutarch's Lives, Robinson Crusoe, Baron 
Munchausen, Blue Beard, Ali Baba, and the Holy War. My 
memory was very retentive. When a boy, and even now, 
considered by many as a half idiot/' 

Though Josiah had often, smce then, been unable 
either to buy books or to borrow them, he has always 
kept up his habit of varied reading — and wanting 
other means of information, he has read the frag- 
ments of periodical literature exhibited in the book- 
seller's windows. For the sake of poor students of 
his class, perhaps publishers will be kind enough to 
turn the page now and then, especially where it re- 
fers to some important facts or stirring controversy. 
Josiah is under great obligations to journalists of every 
shade of political opinion. They have helped him 
unconsciously to much food for meditation when he 
had scarcely a crust in his wallet. 

IV. The confidence with which Josiah speaks of 
his conversion is peculiarly offensive to the taste and 
feeling of a certain class of literary religionists. Any- 
thing positive in Christian truth or experience, seems 
greatly to disturb their intellectual equanimity. In 
their view, there is an insuflerable egotism in the 
profession of an inward and divine renovation. Some 
parts of the New Testament must be, on this ac- 
count, and in the same degree, distasteful to them. 
Yet, on the supposition that the great change is ever 
realized, the joy of such a transition must be too 
great for concealment ; and since it is an individual 
transformation, it would be the height of ailectation 
to speak of it in any other than a personal form. 
Conversion is the greatest fact of human conscious- 
ness. Those who have passed from " death unto 
life," cannot but testify to the mercy they have ex- 
perienced. The parents of the blind beggar in the 



SUPPLEMENTARY REMARKS. 163 

gospel was rather ashamed at his pertinacity, but 
necessity was upon him, and he could not refrain 
from the confession, " One thing I know, whereas I 
was blind, I can now see." It is unjust to attribute 
the grateful joy of a convert, to pharisaic pride. The 
pharisees of our own time, are rather to be found 
amongst those who are too proud to admit their in- 
dividual need of conversion. 

Nothing has so astonished me in the multifarious 
correspondence I have received, as the allegement 
against Josiah, of a want of gr?vteful feeling for the 
kindness shown to him. A more gratuitous reflection 
it would be difficult to imagine. No parade, cer- 
tainly, is made in the narrative of his thanksgiving, 
but allusion to the generosity and sympathy of his 
benefactors is neither infrequent nor indistinct. Let 
the reader glance over these pages, and say how far 
the following observation from the pen of the most 
popular writer of the day is justified : "I am partic- 
ularly struck by the goodness of many people to him, 
and by the absence of a tender and enduring remem- 
brance of that goodness, forever softening, and dila- 
ting in his Christian heart." The truth is that a 
thankful spirit is one of the most distinctive traits in 
Josiah's character. In illustration of this — the reader 
will indulge me with another quotation from his un- 
published meditations : 

" How delightful to my soul," he writes, " is the exercise 
of praise — the grateful acknowledgment of a thankful heart, 
arising from a deep sense of the numberless mercies of God, 
especially for redeeming love, and for pardoning and sancti- 
fying grace — all nature praises GoH. See the little lark as it 
rises from the earth, and soars towards the sky, how melodi- 
ously it sings. See the bright sun, how beautifully he shines, 
diffusing light, heat, fruitfulness and cheerfulness all around ! 
How does he tell of the goodness of God ! Look upon these 
fields of corn and those luxuriant meadows. Look upward 



164 LIFE OF A VAGRANT. 

upon the broad blue sky, and look down upon that beautiful 
river — all these objects show forth His praise. Praise is the 
delightful employment of angels, and the spirits of the just 
made perfect. It is sweet to find freedom of access to God's 
throne of grace, and there tell Him all my cares, and obtain 
forgiveness for all my sins. Yet my soul finds its richest pleas- 
ures — its most unspeakable joy, while, filled with a sense of 
God's love and goodness, it pours out its grateful feelings in 
ardent praise. Praise the Lord O my soul. While I live 
will 1 praise the Lord. As long as I have any being, I will 
sing praises to my God. Think upon the mercies of Him 
who guarded thee when an infant on thy mother's breast, w^ho 
bore with thy perverse rebellious ways, who protected thee 
from numberless dangers, provided for thy many wants be- 
fore thou knewest or loved Him, and who looked upon thee 
in thy low and lost estate, when a poor degraded wretched 
outcast wanderer, despised of thy fellow-creatures, and a mis- 
erable slave of Satan. O how can I sufficiently adore that 
love which subdued my will, and caused me as a penitent to 
weep at the foot of the cross, which gave my soul the assu- 
rance that all my sins are forgiven, and enlightened my under- 
standing to see somewhat of the beauty of Christ my Sa- 
viour : which exalted my soul to the honors and privileges 
of a child of God, delivering me in every temptation, comfort- 
ing me under every trouble, refreshing my soul with the light 
of His countenance, and the hope of eternal glory. O that I 
could praise my God like the angels do in heaven ! O that 
the sense of God's goodness may kindle in my heart a never 
dying flame of sacred love 1" 

V. On the subject adverted to in the note, (page 
113) Josiah has written to me a characteristic letter, in 
which he says, ** It will give me a heartfelt satisfac- 
tion if my humble efforts, as an instrument in the 
hand of God, should contribute to the prosperity of 
Zion, and when I am called home to the Upper 
Temple to join in the nobler worship there, it will 
add to my joy to think that I have helped to perpet- 
uate the worship of God below." It would be out 
of place here to make more than a passing allusion 
to the matter ; yet as an interesting illustration of 



SUPPLEMENTARY REMARKS. 165 

the '' power of the feeble/' I may mention the cir- 
cumstance that a contribution has already been sent 
from the Wes-t Indies, in consequence of the refer- 
ence made in the narrative, toward the fund for the 
erection of a monumental chapel in commemoration 
of the Pilgrim Fathers. Time must be given to al- 
low the idea to spread and to germinate. A noble 
work, at the outset, always appears impossible. It 
v/oiild nut otherwise have upon it the stamp of di- 
vinity. A beginning is made. The Church at 
Union-street has committed itself to the sacred en- 
terprise in the spirit that animated Eobinson, Jacob 
and their companions in 1616. They have made it 
the subject of united and special prayer, and formed 
an association for the silent and gradual accumula- 
tion of a fund — and it may be — that even this slight 
notice may find its way, under the guidance of prov- 
idence, to some, whose " spirit is made willing'* to 
join in the work. 



THE END. 



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